Tuesday, September 13, 2005


My mom and her husband are returning this very moment from their vacation in Germany. They're flying in the air above me, on their way to California. They were in Bavaria for two weeks, at a miliary resort near Garmish. My step-father, The Colonel (which is all my siblings and I have ever called him, and with much love), was stationed in Germany in an earlier life, and he loves the area around Garmish. I have never been to Garmish, but I sure do enjoy saying the name: Garmish. Gaaaaarmish.

I have only been to Germany once, a Frankfurt airport stopover on the way to Barcelona.

"So this resort," my mom says, "it has a spa, three restaurants, entertainment centers...."

"Sounds pretty nice. Could David and I stay there sometime?" We're not military, but I wonder if it's like USAA auto and property insurance, which is the BEST, meaning anyone connected to the military in any familial way can benefit from the perk of a military resort. The price is what makes it so desirable: $75.00 or less a night. David and I were in Europe last October (David photographed a wedding on Mallorca, and I was his assitant! Clara was there, too, in utero), and it was freaking expensive! We paid $75 a night for a run down, but uber cool and well-located -- corner of Ave Diagonal and Paseo de Gracia -- two star hotel in Barcelona. That was cheap, too. So a resort, well that sounds pretty swanky for the price. Although, it could turn out like the "five star" Texas Hill Country resort where David and I spent our Honeymoon, which shall remain nameless because it was a wedding gift. The one restaurant only served a bowl of demi glaze with some type of meat in it for dinner, and for breakfast they served cold, reconstituted eggs. We had to leave the resort by the third day to find something to eat. We were starving.

Plus, "military resort" isn't an oxymoron, but it's close. Sounds like a little slice of hell, doesn't it?

But then you don't know the Colonel, my mom's husband, who is probably one of kindest men I've ever known. He's also full of great stories (about the military), treats my mom like a queen, and tolerates her crazy children. More than tolerates -- cherishes.

My mother likes the military men. My dad was a military man, too, and like the Colonel, he went to West Point Academy, too. However, my dad defines himself as a West Point Grad, and this fact means everything to him, maybe even more than his children. Just Kidding.


My point here is that the military, besides using our tax dollars to subsidize the lives of the people who join it, besides serving the purpose to train people to kill other people, is full of wonderful folk. Like the Colonel. And, okay, like my dad, too.

"I don't know. Maybe you could stay there," says my mom. Her tone means exactly what she says, which is her normal tone of voice, in general: Sincere.

I love that about my mom.

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