I thought these stories from Militarybrats.com were very thoughtful and perhaps might spark some responses. I'm sure many of you can relate.

EVERY BRAT HAS A STORY

From Michael Bergeron:

Growing up as a Brat, what an adventure! 11 different schools, six different locations, what a ride!

1st - 3rd grade Kadena AFB Okinawa
4th - 5th grade McGuire AFB New Jersey
6th - 7th grade Topeka AFB Kansas
7th - 8th grade Abbeville Louisiana, Dad stationed in Thailand during Vietnam
8th - 9th grade Little Rock AFB Arkansas 10th - 12th grade Yokota AFB Japan

I look back on all of it and I know I'm one of the lucky ones. The life experience alone is astounding. All of the exposure to different cultures, yes even in the USA. Believe me, people in New Jersey are not like the people in Arkansas. They may speak the same language and look the same, kinda sorta...but culturally, I can definitely say they are of the human race. No offense to anyone from Arkansas or New Jersey! As a fellow Brat, I'm sure you can relate.

As I brush through the cobwebs of those memories, it really struck me funny at the things that popped up and remain clear, like they happened yesterday.

- Carving my initials on the top of a 1000 foot tree in Kadena, as part of the tree house club. I was 5 or 6, the memory is clear, it was a 1000 feet tall!
- Sneaking off-base at McGuire to get a paper model of the LM, before Neil landed on the moon, I had to have it!
- My first real kiss on the lips in a storage shed at McGuire on the last day, as we prepared to move to Topeka.
- The time in Topeka, when the day turned to night as an F4 tornado went by the base.
- Absolutely falling head over heels with the prettiest girl in Jr high school in Little Rock, adolescents ugh! We happen to live in the same duplex, sharing the same bedroom wall and having late night talks through that wall. She was so far out of my league, but it didn't matter, I got to talk to her, a slice of heaven!
- Getting my motorcycle license at 13, but my parents wouldn't let me ride it to school. So I missed the bus on a blustery winter day in Little Rock and rode it anyway. By the time I got to school it was sleeting, I was frozen solid and my jeans actually cracked as I got off the bike. I was miserable!
- Mowing the flight line at Yokota, while C-5's, F-4's, C-130's & 141's were landing, what a rush! My first real girlfriend. Climbing Mt Fuji in the dark. The gang in the Math/Science resource center in high school.

Last but not least, all of the people that I had the honor to meet, get to know and had an influence on my life. Without those people, cultures and experiences, I wouldn't be who I am. Wouldn't trade it for the world!


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From Carol Srulowitz Cory:

Last year I drove across the United States to revisit every base and city where my Father had been stationed. It opened my eyes to where I had grown up, why he was there, and the pattern the military had in shaping our lives. It also helped me close a few doors.

It was a great life and a different life. One that is hard to explain to anyone who has been born and raised in one place. Most of us have no roots, no family homes to return to, and our childhood is scattered across the world.

My older sister, two of my brothers, and I each married another military brat. My little sister married someone serving in the Air Force. Only our youngest brother who was born after our Father retired has never married.

One thing remains true. No matter the attitude of the world around us, I am always proud that my Father was one of our nation's Warriors.

I visit the Brats website from time to time and it strikes me how our lives are all so similar. Regardless of the various places we each have been, there is that common thread that bonds us. We may be citizens of the world, but that pride in country and what our fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters sacrificed is profound. Whenever I have occasion to meet or chat with a military brat there is an almost instant kinship. It doesn't seem to matter whether you were a jock, class clown (that would be me), class president or one of the crowd. We've all become members of a brotherhood/sisterhood that transcends all of the ways each of us chose to cope with the stress of our lifestyles. Last June at my mom's funeral, a eulogy was read that contained many anecdotes of our military life, from picking almonds in our backyard in California, being evacuated by boat from our home in Louisiana to touring the Nazi deathcamps in Germany. Trade any of that? Never...