Call for Submissions from Military Brats (past and present)

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Connie Kinsey, the Museum of the American Military Family and Learning Center’s Writer-in-Residence, is pleased to put out a call for stories for our newest anthology “Home: It’s Complicated.” Where is “home” to a Brat? What makes home a home? What does it feel like to “move home” or “leave home”? Is home a person, place, or thing? This topic is timely–we at the museum are asking this same question for ourselves! Later this week we will post further details on the project–but for now, sharpen your pencils, warm up your laptops, and think about home

The Puppy

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I stared at my beautiful, evil wife and realized the horror had only just begun. 

Sabrina was gorgeous, like her name, in that mid 1960s way — full-bodied, statuesque, thick glossy black hair and impossible blue eyes.  She was what the old folks called Black Irish — that mating of the Spaniards with the Irish during the Spanish Armada.   

I had been woefully unprepared for life with her, having married a scant two weeks after meeting.  I was besotted.  Another old-fashioned word, but it is the only one that will do. 

Photo by Barcs Tamás on Unsplash

Asleep, I had felt that uncomfortable sensation of being examined. I rolled over and she was glaring at me – knife in hand. 

Sabrina!  What the hell!  What are you doing? 

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Hillbilly Risotto

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Growing up, we called it hamburger and rice.  Hamburger browned in a skillet.  Uncle Ben’s Converted Rice made according to the directions on the box.  The two ingredients are mixed together and served with salt, pepper, margarine, and a squeezable plastic lemon full of concentrated juice.

My dad grew up impoverished and hamburger and rice, often without lemon, was a staple.  Once he became a private in the Marine Corps, the meal became standard end-of-the-month fare.  We continued to have it throughout my childhood and early adulthood.

When I left home, I continued to make it.  It’s a favorite.

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Paradise is burning

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I hope they saved the Banyan tree.  The one that sits in the park in Lahaina.  The magnificent old tree has seen life on the island radically change from the time of missionaries to the throngs of tourists and now wildfires.  It was planted in 1873 to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the first protestant mission trip to Maui.

I hope they saved the Banyan tree to bear witness to the dangers so many dismissed as hoax, as liberal extremism, as anti-fossil fuels.  The yammering of conspiracy belief.

It is the biggest banyan tree in Hawaii and covers 1.94 acres of what used to be the courthouse square and is now simply known as Banyan Park.  The tree is magnificent.  The sixteen main trunks and lower branches sport twinkle lights upon occasion.  It turned 150 years old this past April.

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