Things I will miss…

The packers are here, doing their best to put everything I own in boxes. I’m ready to move, but today I’m reflecting about living here. This post has its good and bad points without a doubt, but I think lately I’ve harped more on what irritates me (ahem, bugle and cannon anyone?). So here are my top ten things of what I will dearly miss about good old Ft. Benning.

1. My tree (and all of the lovely shade trees here)
2. Being able to walk or ride a bike almost everywhere
3. Playing with the dutchkid at the stadium

4. The wood floors in my house
5. Spending hours at the playground, out my backdoor

6. The fantastic library in town
7. My piano teacher
8. Our rockin’ church
9. The Riverwalk

10. The sense of history, living in an old house at an old post

Overall, its been a good year. I should probably get back to supervising packing before I drown in the river of nostalgia.

Rank and its privilege

*warning, rant ahead, I have to get it out of my system.  Just in case you think I always love Army life*

We came home today from a whirlwind road trip to see my mother-in-law. It was fine. I complained about going and then felt guilty because it went well and my poor MIL is lonely and obviously missed us. I am a rotten daughter-in-law. Moving on.

When we arrived back in the neighborhood, we were greeted with all sorts of talk… the latest scuttlebutt, updates on who is moving when, and disturbingly, one of my permanent party neighbors had some real news.

It turns out that because of BRAC (Base Realignment And Closure) there are two generals moving here soon that will need quarters. Our street is very close to the homes where the current CG and his deputy (another general) live. So housing has decided to move two families on our street out of their homes, remove the public playground in between them, and change the homes to befit their rank.  Mostly by giving them bigger private yards.

I shouldn’t care, really I shouldn’t. I’m leaving and it doesn’t affect me. But it really irks me that a) they moved both of these families in within the past 6-8 months and now they are forcing them to move again and b) that playground is the only one nearby for kids.

I don’t have a big neighborhood (it’s really only about 2 streets if you count the current generals).  We joke about how the rest of us live on the “ghetto side” of the street. We are mostly student officer families intermingled with a few permanent party officers.  But let me just tell you we have a lot of kids. We also have had a lot of trouble with people speeding down our back alley. We have tiny yards and a busy street in front. That playground is well used, every single day.

They are building all sorts of new housing and facilities elsewhere on this post, why on earth couldn’t they build new general’s quarters?  The type of house you receive on post is determined by rank, and I understand the reasons for that.  One of which is that your BAH (housing allowance) also varies by rank, so just like $1200 in rent will get you a different place than $600, that’s the idea with your Army house.   But why do they need to sacrifice something used by so many to give a general and his family (who usually don’t have small children in need of playing space) a huge yard?  Just to keep all the brass together?

I don’t get it.  Surely there must have been some sort of alternative.  And now because almost all of our street is turning over for PCS season, no one will take the time to object.  It will likely already be in progress by the time the next people come here, find out and try to say anything about it.  My neighbors have all mostly checked out and tell me that “It’s not your problem anymore.”  I know, it’s just a playground, but it’s a quality of life issue for all those families who will live here after me.   Although I’m not sure what I can do other than write a letter.  Pissing in the wind, I’m afraid.   Add this one to the list of things, “When I am in charge of the Army…”

Oh, but I wish I could be here the first morning they are awakened by the cannon.  Welcome to the ‘hood… sir.

The commune (oops, I mean the fishbowl)

I read an interesting article on Mothering.com today about what they call “co-housing”. It begins like this:

“Gone are the days when a trip to the grocery store meant stopping by your neighbor’s house to see if they needed a gallon of milk or an errand run while they tended to a new baby. Front porches are no longer used as an opportunity to invite friends up for an evening chat and glass of lemonade. And children no longer linger in yards littered with games, unsupervised play, and laughter.”

uh, not totally gone since they just described my neighborhood that I so fondly call the fishbowl. It turns out that now they are designing housing areas to mimic the one I live in… that’s about 90 years old and on a military installation. You know, the one I complain about on this blog?

Now granted, we don’t meet all of the things they describe in the article… we don’t have a community center where we eat communal meals. Although we do share meals an awful lot. We don’t have a no cars allowed policy on our street. We just yell at cars driving too fast because everyone who lives here knows the kids play and ride bikes every afternoon. And let’s just say that the number of people on my street that would fit the definition of hippie are limited to well, me. I do have a subscription to Mothering magazine after all. But really, that’s a stretch.

It just surprised me how much the article summed up my feelings. On good days, I really like certain aspects of living this way. I know that the dutchkid and I will dearly miss the long leisurely afternoons of playing outside with the other kids. But sometimes it really drives me nuts not to just do my own thing. And to not have some space. I was talking with one of my neighbors over the weekend, and she is feeling absolutely smothered by someone who doesn’t observe the same boundaries as the rest of us… if you’re unlucky enough to live practically on top of a person you don’t get along with, it can be misery.

They do talk about some of the cons at the end of the article… “Is it intrusive to you when a neighbor comes by for a few eggs or with an invitation to stop by for a glass of wine?” Why YES, sometimes it is. “If you value exclusive privacy, you might want to stick to traditional living.”

I should write them a cautionary tale, since I for one will be glad to sink back into suburban anonymity when we move. But it did make me realize that living in a commune hasn’t been all bad.

Reveille

I’ve written before about the unique sounds of living on an Army post. Being roused by the “I don’t know but I’ve been told…” of someone calling cadence, or being comforted by the sounds of other people awake and suffering at the crack of dawn. Since we rarely live on post it’s been sort of a novelty during our time here.

It’s standard on many military installations of various branches to play Reveille. (for my civilian readers, it’s the bugle call that comes to mind when you think of the Army getting soldiers out of bed). I knew this, and always found it quite charming. A different bugle call, the Retreat, is played at the end of the duty day (about 4pm). However, they are normally played at the post headquarters, which was far enough away so that we couldn’t hear it during the past months we’ve lived here. My dh reminded me of that last week, because the headquarters building is being renovated, and guess where their temporary home is!

I remembered this morning when it sounded from across the street. I thought it was supposed to be at 8am but it was 7:30. Of course being the anti-morning person I am, I was in bed. And it sounded again at 8. AND they follow Reveille with a cannon blast. My poor older lab, who’s a touch neurotic about loud noises, was beside himself.

It just doesn’t get any more Army than that. But did I say I was going to miss living here? I lied.

I am really starting to like it here.

Today as I was pulling out some spent annuals and planting some pansies in a flower bed, my dh asked me why I bothered to waste money on flowers when we’re leaving in 7 or so months.

A valid question.  Particularly for the frugal among us.

The first reason is because my funk is gone and I am so glad to do something productive.  And really, nothing cheers me up like flowers, anyway.

The second reason is because I really do like it here.  I love that we can walk to the park, and there are sidewalks for long shady strolls and quiet streets for the dutchkid to practice riding her bike.    Planting flowers makes me feel settled here, even if that’s only an illusion.  Plus, I still have this weird habit from when I was a kid of attributing feelings to inanimate objects (there’s a term for that but it escapes me).   So I like to think that it makes the house happy to be loved and for someone to take the time to do things like plant flowers.

And thirdly, well, this reason should probably be number one…  After we moved here and I planted flowers in the first place,  I received so many compliments about how pretty they were.  When I’m out watering, strangers walking by often tell me they like them.  All of the houses on our street are exactly alike.  For those of you not familiar with military housing, I don’t mean how some suburban neighborhood homes are all similar, I mean carbon copy exactly.   Some of my neighbors have great lawn furniture or spectacular playsets and some have immaculate “House Beautiful” interiors.   I don’t have any of those things, but the flowers are my stamp that this house is mine.

35 dollars well spent.

Maybe I should get a sign

My neighbors have discovered that I can sew.

It all started when I let my guard down and let them inside my house, which has curtains that I made. I am not the world’s greatest seamstress, to be sure, but I guess so few people even have a sewing machine anymore that I am a novelty.  Or make that a hot commodity.

Since then I have hemmed, taken things in and fixed broken straps.  At first I didn’t mind.  I’ve written before about how sometimes the neighborhood fishbowl makes me crazy living on post.  I am pretty introverted and this is a good way for me to show that I am friendly.  Our little street has a very nice vibe, lots of kids playing outside and parents sitting in their lawn furniture, chatting.  It sort of made me feel like it was my way of contributing.

Then today, I get a call from one of my neighbors announcing that she had bought some fabric and foam and that she wanted me to make a cushion for an outdoor bench another neighbor had purchased.  And they would like it done by Thursday, thank you, because her in-laws are coming for a visit and they’ll need extra seating.  Like I am sitting around twiddling my thumbs with nothing better to do than a project that wasn’t my idea, oh and to do it for free.

I seem to have this problem a lot.  I must have something on my forehead that says “I can’t ever say no, please take advantage of me”  I was proud of myself that I said that I didn’t think I could have it done by then, but I still said yes.

Enough with the friendly crap, I’m going back to being the neighborhood hermit.

Neighbors

I like living on post… most of the time. I’ve been contented with the housing itself, with the company managing it and I love having everything so close when gas prices are sky high. There’s just one aspect I had forgotten about because it’s been so long: the fishbowl.

At first we were some of the earliest to arrive, and the neighborhood was pretty empty. Now that PCS season is in full swing, however, our block is completely full. Most of my neighbors are in the same school as my dh and they are a friendly bunch. So much so that I have had to institute a “no wearing pajamas downstairs after 9am” rule. Which really cramps my style seeing as it’s now 8:53am and yes, I’m still in them.

I think it’s because I grew up in the country, where you could practically go out in your backyard naked and no one would see you. (Hey, that’s the good thing about how high corn grows). I don’t like always having to put my happy face on, just to let my dogs out in the morning. I read an interesting article in Smithsonian magazine a while back about how that might be why New Yorkers are perceived as rude. It seems they live so much of their lives in such close quarters and in “public” that they don’t see the point anymore of pasting on the perma-grin. I’m starting to think they have the right idea.

I knew I was in trouble when the pest control guy came and said I must have gone on my run early that morning because he hadn’t seen me (!). It also makes it difficult to avoid people you’d rather not spend a lot of time with, like my neighbor a few houses down who spends every conversation I have with her complaining about how awful this place is.

Thankfully the neighbor who shares the other half of my house is my kind of girl, she likes her privacy too. She has dogs that bark all day and night, but I’ll take her. At least I don’t have to make small talk with them.

You make a better door..

transom windows

Originally uploaded by dutchican

…than a window. (well, not really)

I think these small windows around my front door are called transom windows. Quite possibly my most favorite thing about this house.

House quirks

quirky things about my house: coal door

Originally uploaded by dutchican

Our “new” house is actually very old, I’m not sure exactly how old but it is close to a century. This little door is in the cellar/basement. It still opens and there are remnants of coal in it (along with other not so nice things). It must have been part of an old heating system, I’m guessing. For some reason such things fascinate me. The house is full of little oddities.

A little bit of sunshine

We just got home today from our scouting trip. Normally before we move we take a small trip about a month or so ahead of time to check out the new area, figure out our housing, etc. Both dh and I are pretty big worriers and planners, so we can’t stand sitting in temporary lodging with our dogs (and now the dutchkid) trying to figure out where we’re going to live. We were pretty much planning on living on post this time, and we’ve been to this post before (although it was about 6 years ago) so it made things much simpler.

What we didn’t know was exactly what housing we were going to get. I wrote before about the housing of my dreams, but we had been told by people at the school that we wouldn’t qualify because my dh will be on student status again. However, the housing has been privatized, so we really didn’t know what to expect.

What an incredible surprise! While I’ve heard a few negative things about the privatization, so far we have been impressed. The lady we had been in contact with already had a house set aside for us (we move in 3 weeks), she even gave us the keys to go look to make sure it was ok. Was it ever. A stone’s throw from where my dh’s classes will be, it is one of the houses that I used to walk past sometimes and wish I lived in. It’s also newly renovated, so not only do I get to live in a historic home, it has a beautiful updated kitchen and bathrooms.

My dh hugged the housing lady. It’s so far removed from our past experiences dealing with Army housing we didn’t know what to do with ourselves. She is seriously getting something good from me. Chocolate. .. Roses… Champagne… I’ll think of something.