Chris Eck called the other day to tell me that there is going to be a "first ever" reunion of one of Ken's squadrons--one of the ones that he was commanding officer for--VMF 331.  Or maybe it was VMA.

"I won't know anyone," I told him.  "That was fifty years ago.  No one will remember me either.  They are probably all dead.  I was only twenty-five at the time.  Everyone was older than me.  Anyone that I might remember will be in their very late seventies or eighties."

Chris insisted.  So I am going to try and go.  Pensacola.  I can just imagine myself standing around looking lost and wondering what in the world I am doing there.  But it might be fun just to go and watch the younger people and remember what it was like.  Those were the best years of our lives.  And I didn't even know it.

The children were two, six and seven.  The gulf water was two blocks from our house.  We had military housing that was wonderful.  And Ken was happy, happy, happy.  To have a squadron meant the world to him.  I understand that now.  But back then, I had no idea what that meant to him.

He had been in the MC for sixteen years, waiting and dreaming about a squadron of his own.  I, on the other hand was caught up in raising children and all that that entails.  I really didn't understand the Marine Corps.  I didn't understand what it meant to be the commanding officer's wife.  I was just hanging on and trying to figure everything out.  Twenty five years old, and had already moved ten times in the seven years since I married him.  And had given birth to four children.  Mercy.

I think about that girl that I was and wonder how she did it.  When Ken asked me to marry him, he said, "The age difference won't be a problem for me, but it will be difficult for you."  (He was eight and a half years older than me.)   That was an understatement!!

I'd do it all over again.  What a privilege to be a part of the Marine Corps.  Even though I was just on the edges.  Greatest group of people in the world.