Beaufort, was probably the best three years of my life.  Maybe the best three years ever.  Ken's promotions now gave us enough to live on.  We were able to buy me a piano.  And some much needed furniture that didn't fall apart every time we moved.  We had a real church.  I finally made friends.  Real friends.  We felt settled.  But it wasn't always a bed of roses.

Although I didn't have to formally work, as the CO's wife there were responsibilities that I had never had before.  Hosting parties.  Greeting dignitaries.  ETC.  One of the worst things was accompanying the Chaplain to inform the widow when someone was killed. But thank God I never had to do that.  It came close once.  They were all at Roosevelt Roads, deployed--with all the aircraft--when I got a call.  "There is a crash on the runway.  The plane is destroyed, burned up.  Stand by."

I asked if he could see the number on the plane.  He said, "It's number one...OH, NO!!   He realized what he had told me.  Ken's plane.  It was a terrible hour before I heard what happened.  Ken's nose strut had collapsed as he was ready to lift off, and the front of the plane sank.  The fuel tanks hit the ground, sheared off, and  caught fire.  The whole plane was engulfed  in flames.  But he was going fast enough that the cockpit was ahead of the flames--which burned out before he came to a stop, and he got out.  There is a God who watches over us.  Ken should had been dead.  The plane was toast.

At home, there was constant chaos as well.  Scott broke his collar bone and took his first ambulance ride--one of many that occurred in his chaos-filled life.  And he got lost repeatedly.  I couldn't let him out of my sight.  Once he got on the school bus (he was two),  went to school and sat down at a desk.  He was so tall that no one noticed him.  Military kids come and go, so it wasn't unusual for a teacher not to know who was who.  Becky found him when she went to the cafeteria.   He was probably blowing bubbles in his milk.  I was frantic.  Raising Scott was different than raising the two girls.  He was a wild-child.  I never knew what he was going to do.  Always in action.  Always looking for the next adventure.  He was a handful.  And eternally cheerful.

To be fair, Becky added to the chaos.  She was four years older, and thought things up for Scott to do and helped him do them.  They were inseparable.  Pat and I were the only normal people in the family.  Everyone else was always on the edge of disaster.  Pat and I were readers.  Calm.  Sensible.