Marianne Ivany

I have always looked upon our moves, courtesy of the U.S. Army, as great adventures – opportunities, really, to see the world on someone else’s nickel. I never dreamed, growing up in a very small town with one, four-way stop sign, that I would live in three foreign countries and nine different states. Former lessons in geography, history and social studies came alive when I experienced everyday life in regions of the world as charming as Europe, as exotic as the Middle East, and as down to earth as Texas. No longer could the people depicted in my old textbooks be classified as “typical”. Their authenticism literally jumped from the

pages into my new world-view, animated by their customs, dress, languages, music and cuisines. Observing young girls in the colorful dirndls of Munich, shopping amidst the black abaya-clad women of Riyadh, line dancing with the boot-scoot’n cowboys

Line Dancers in Texasof Killeen, my hazy preconceived perceptions gave way to new realities. Yet, for all of the differences I encountered, the discovered similarities were even more revealing. In Kuwait City we lived “on the economy” as opposed to residing at an American compound. Our neighbors were just as curious about us as we were about them. During the first month in our new home on Block two, Street three, Jada five, House eight in Yarmouk, Kuwait City, Kuwait, our next-door neighbors knocked on our door every afternoon for thirty days. Their generous gifts included everything from a newly slaughtered leg of lamb, complete with hoof and hair, to a tower of baklava desserts, mountains of hummus, tabbouleh, baba ghanoush and falafel.

Traditional good ‘ol Southern hospitality was alive and well in the Middle East, or at least that is what we thought. It turns out we arrived on the first day of the holy month of Ramadan. During this time, Muslims offer gifts to their less-fortunate neighbors, who, in this case, just happened to be us! That was just the beginning of many opportunities we were given to share in the rich Kuwaiti culture and their time-honored traditions. Some of the highlights included an invitation to several Arab weddings, falcon hunts, camel rides, diwaniya’s (a reception area in which

Kuwaiti men could, from time immemorial, meet colleagues and guests), and visits to Arabian horse farms. In return I was happy to share our traditional American holidays with our international hosts. I prepared a Thanksgiving Dinner about once a month for different groups of Kuwaitis and homesick American soldiers.

The stories shared at the dining room table never failed to reveal the really important themes in our surprisingly similar lives: family, friends, and faith.
The family who lived directly across the street became our window into the life of a typical Kuwaiti family. This remarkable family of six had four children similar in age to ours. And, as often happens in our own neighborhoods, we became close friends through their activities. We soon realized that the family unit in Kuwait is a revered social entity. The father and mother took parenting very seriously. When the girls walked across the street to visit, one of the parents always accompanied them to the door to learn which movie we might be planning to watch. They were concerned with the country’s quality of education, the effect of outside influences on their children, and the importance of a moral foundation in their lives.
In the military, we expect a lot from our children and we hold them to very high standards. When your parent is in a command position, such as a First Sergeant, Command Sergeant Major, or a Regimental Commander, everyone knows who your Dad or Mom are, and everyone is watching you like a hawk. This kind of scrutiny is magnified even more when living in a foreign country. In 1994, after Desert Storm, Saddam Hussein once again assembled his army within two miles of the Kuwaiti border. The U.S. State Department organized a three-day window in which all family members could be evacuated out of the country. We had long discussions with our children on the importance of their reactions to the inevitable questions by their schoolmates during this tense period. I believe they clearly understood the significance of answering carefully and diplomatically to the inquiries of their friends and teachers. So for three mornings in a row, I received calls from friends and neighbors wondering whether we planned on sending our children to school that day or if we were packing our suitcases to leave the country. The sight of our eleven and thirteen-year-olds standing outside, waiting for the school bus, created a remarkably reassuring effect on everyone in our neighborhood. Fortunately, Saddam retreated and we all breathed a sigh of relief.

The nomadic way of life became quite routine for our family. Nearly every summer, when the children were young, our parents would gather up their grandchildren to spend two weeks on the farm in Ohio and two weeks in the big city of Cleveland. This “vacation” allowed me to organize our household goods in preparation for the arrival of the next set of packers and movers. Broken toys, outgrown clothes, and all extraneous objects were once again sorted, distributed or disposed of in short order. Curtains came down to be laundered. Carpets were shampooed and rolled up. Blankets and bedspreads were washed, folded and packed into clearly marked boxes. Every file was purged of outdated paperwork. Each knick-knack and doo-dad was carefully considered as to its relevance in our next set of military quarters. I like to think that this very thorough spring-cleaning was due to my fastidious nature, but in truth it had much more to do with the Army’s allocated weight allowance for shipping household goods. Every ounce over the specified poundage was a penny out of our pocket.

Frequent mobility created two major challenges for Army families: the availability of employment and career advancement for the spouses, and the transition issues facing military children as they relocated to different schools throughout their academic careers. During my years associated with the military, the two most transportable careers were nursing and teaching. However, the certification process in each state was so time-consuming and expensive that it often was not pursued. I believe, for my family, it was far more important for me to create a stable home environment, as quickly as possible, during the relatively few months we spent at each duty assignment. I became part of a strong Sisterhood of wives who chose to be stay-at-home moms. Despite the loss of income and opportunities for professional development, many of my fellow Army wives felt fortunate to have the time to participate in numerous volunteer opportunities, allowing us to utilize our talents, experience and education for the benefit of both our military and civilian communities.

The second set of challenges continues to be the unique transition issues facing our military children as they relocate throughout their academic careers. There are numerous emotional, social, and academic issues which need immediate attention with every single move to a different post: special testing for children who are Gifted and Talented, meetings with counselors and psychologists to develop updated Individualized Education Plans for the learning disabled, searching for yet another set of music, dance, and/or karate teachers, and youth athletic teams. Undoubtedly, the most frustrating exercise for me was trying to enroll our children in a Catholic or a private school, if there were any, near our Army posts. Often times the military is not able to issue relocation orders in a timely manner and it was not unusual to be told of our next duty location with less than four months’ notice. Our children and I had to reinvent ourselves at each new school and with every new job. Navigating the unchartered waters of unfamiliar classmates, foreign cultures, and even the unique clothing styles in a particular geographic region, required an inordinate amount of attention to detail.

I believe our children were very fortunate to be the recipients of this unofficial “study abroad” program, from the moment of their births until they left for college. Was this way of life difficult? Sometimes. Did our children like leaving their friends every year or so? Not at all. Did they prosper in their worldview, advance in their academics, becoming strong and resilient adults? I’d like to think so. Despite all the challenges and complicating issues we faced with each unique assignment, I tried to nurture a positive mindset through it all. And so our treks across the country from West Point to Ft. Bliss, Ft. McPherson to Ft. Leavenworth, or across the ocean to Europe and the Middle East, became opportunities for family adventures. Our four children, for several months at a time, had only each other as their known friends and so they learned to support and encourage each other through their numerous transitions. Today, I am happy to report, they remain the best of friends and call and text each other whenever they need some advice or a shoulder to cry on.

I consider myself fortunate that during our 30 years in the military together I never had to experience the fear and anxiety faced by so many spouses, of a deployment to a war zone. As a mother, however, three of our four children were deployed to Iraq for a total of four tours of duty in that country. All I can say is, thank goodness for Skype! It was so reassuring to be able to see their faces and hear their voices once a month! My daughter-in-law in particular deserves bouquets of accolades for the positive way she handled raising my three grandchildren as a single mother for fifteen long months while our oldest son was deployed. I believe she stepped up to the plate in ways she never knew she was capable of, never knew she had the strength, never knew she had the courage. She is very indicative of today’s typical military spouse. They have learned to manage stress and build resilience in themselves and in their children.
People often ask me if I would choose the military life, if I had it to do all over again. My answer is always the same, “Absolutely! Positively! Without a doubt!”
And, oh by the way, after residing in my current home for the past twelve years, I really need to clean out my closets.

Some of Marianne and Bob’s homes in the USA

PCS:

Spring Cleaning the Army Way – 1973-76 

I find it extremely difficult to concentrate in the spring. When opening a cupboard, I am compelled to stop and clean out each shelf. Chipped dishes are tossed in the garbage, glasses are sorted according to height, and any broken utensil or damaged small appliance is history.  Refrigerators, stoves, and ovens must be thoroughly scoured. Every last crumb from the toaster and each wayward drip down the side of the blender is removed. Floors are polished – carpets are cleaned. If I walk into a closet, I have to sift through the clothing that hasn’t been worn during the past twelve months. If it no longer fits, it goes to the thrift shop. The remaining items are sorted by tops and bottoms, long sleeve or short, dresses or gowns, and color-by-color, which, of course, transitions from light to dark. Entire rooms call me to rearrange them.  I absolutely love rearranging furniture and derive great satisfaction in knowing that I have successfully achieved the most harmonious grouping between chairs and tables, sofas and lamps, paintings and mirrors. Whew!

I call this unsettling condition the PCS Syndrome. For all of you civilians out there, PCS is the military acronym for Permanent Change of Station, which means that when the Army needs your spouse in a different job, at a different Post, in a different city, state or country, the entire family has to pick up and move. My PCS Syndrome is a product of my thirty years as an Army wife and it hits me every spring without fail. The feeling creeps into my psyche around March and strengthens throughout April and May. If I haven’t acknowledged the tempest by Memorial Day, then, I
become quite crazed in June until every file has been purged, every nut, bolt, and paint can in the garage has been returned to its proper place, and all the clutter in the attic has been reorganized. If I have been diligent, by the Fourth of July, I am redeemed. My life is back in order, my house looks refreshed, and I am ready to begin my next adventure.

Between 1973 and 2003, I moved our family twenty-five times to places as familiar as Washington D.C. and as foreign as Saudi Arabia. We lived in homes as humble as the second floor of a German pig farmer’s house to a magnificent 10,000 square foot residence in Kuwait, complete with a separate kitchen for slaughtering our own goats. I was not the first Army wife to move so frequently, nor will I be the last.

My record for the greatest number of relocations in the shortest period of time occurred while we were stationed in Germany – four moves during our first six months in the country. Doing the math, that calculates to one “take it down, wrap it up, place in a box, ship to it to a new residence, open the box, unwrap your possessions, and put them all back in a new house” – every forty-five days. Did I mention that quite a few of those moves were made without the assistance of my husband?

Our family mantra quickly became, “Bloom where you are planted!” or in the words of my oldest son, “Home is where the Army sends you!”

I married into the Army in 1973 just as the last of our soldiers were returning from Viet Nam. Our country was entering an unprecedented period of peace at that time. The news of draft-dodgers and war protestors on the front pages of our newspapers began to wane. Images of Woodstock and “love-ins” became less frequent. The lyrics in the music of popular folk singers such as Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Carole King, Pete Seeger and Judy Collins shifted to calls for social, political and environmental change. The ethos of our country during the previous two decades, one that sensationalized the wasteful loss of life in an unjust war, began to shift to a more positive approach – one that began to acknowledge the sacrifices of our military and their families.

I was beginning to have second thoughts about being an Army spouse as we drove closer and closer to our first assignment at Ft. Knox, Kentucky. The last few miles proved to be an enlightening journey down the Dixie Highway littered with pawnshops, tattoo parlors, liquor stores and cheap motels on both sides of the street. I was relieved to finally turn in through the imposing gates of the famed Army Post, as we drove past beautiful historic brick homes that surrounded the lush green Parade Field.

Decorating our love nest was quite simple since we owned just one bed, one dresser, one kitchen table, and four chairs. Bricks and boards served as bookcases, television stands, and knick-knack holders. Four, two by three, stereo speakers doubled as end tables, and plant stands. A discarded ammunition crate, once sanded, painted, and topped with a sturdy piece of glass, made quite a lovely coffee table in those days. Burnt orange, olive green, and mustard yellow were all the rage in the 70’s and it seemed we were given at least one large appliance in each color as wedding gifts. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending upon how you looked upon it, my sturdy olive washer and dryer and mustard dishwasher held on long after peach, teal and cream came and went. Our assignment in Kentucky lasted a mere nine months; ending just about the time I had finished making the last set of draperies.

          We arrived at our second duty station, the University of Wisconsin, in July of 1974, where the Army sent my husband to pursue his Master’s degree. Protests against the war were still fairly common at UW during our first year there, even though the rest of the country had moved on. So, in an effort to fit in with the other students, my Army husband grew a mustache and abandoned his short military haircut. Looking back at photos from those days is really quite comical considering his regimented undergraduate experience at West Point and his natural military bearing. However, by May of 1976 the need for a disguise was no longer necessary. The shift in attitude away from the Viet Nam war provided a more respectful perspective on the relationship between historic and current military events by both his fellow graduate students and his professors. Our stint in Madison, Wisconsin turned out to be the second longest of our thirty year career – twenty-four months.  I actually planted one hundred tulip bulbs during our first fall and was around long enough to watch them bloom the following spring – a rare gift in the life of an Army spouse!