Sunbonnet Soliloquy

By Jewell Ellen Smith

An Army Wife’s Philosophy

Each Army wife -- whether she realizes it or not -- develops a special approach to Army life.

That is, she establishes her own philosophy on how to meet and cope with all problems, all opportunities, all changes, and all of whatever comes.

Some wives take the camel approach to Army life.

A camel whines when it kneels to let its rider mount or put a pack on its back. Then the animal grunts and groans loudly as it scrambles up to its feet. But once the camel starts walking, it carries its load patiently.

(What Army wife doesn’t, at some time, complain and moan and groan and grumble over her home and volunteer duties and community service work and over inconveniences. In fact, over every person, place and thing she doesn’t like!)

Some wives think it wise to take the porcupine approach to Army life.

The word “porcupine” comes from a combination of old French and Latin words that mean “spiny pig.” The porcupine is a rodent, though, not a member of the pig family. And, as all know, he is covered with long, sharp quills or spines, which are his defense mechanism. These he whips out whenever he feels threatened. Heaven help the unwary creature who gets too close to a porcupine!

(All wives have quills -- some of us more than others -- but let’s try to keep them trimmed down. We must get along with other people and we want them to like us, not shun us because we are constantly puffed up and on the defensive.)

(What a porcupine’s tongue looks like I don’t know, but in days gone by I’ve encountered a few people who had quills on their tongues, and every time they opened their mouths out came a shaft of sharp, critical, hurtful words. Wow! Calm, soft, sweet talk is much better. Far more effective.)

Some wives are tempted to take the terrapin approach to Army life.

The terrapin, or turtle, is a slow moving creature who lives in a shell. To him his shell is house and hiding place.

(We all make ourselves protective casings of sorts. But Army wives should take care that they don’t hide in their shells and become almost hermits. And those of us who have had some years experience in Army life must seek out the young wives and do what we can to keep them from living too much to themselves.)

(Army life can lead to a great deal of loneliness, especially when transfer time comes. It is not easy to go to a new assignment, to a place where you don’t have a friend, don’t know a soul. Because of this, an Army wife must be a friendly person, not a timid little terrapin looking out of a brittle shell at all the other uneasy little terrapins.)

Of course there is no perfect approach to Army life or any other life. One philosophy-of-life story that is as good now as it was in the sixth century B.C. when the Greek fabulist Aesop first told it is the fable called “The Fox and the Bramble.” It goes like this:

“A fox, closely pursued by a pack of dogs, took shelter under the cover of a thick clump of brambles. He rejoiced in this asylum, and for a while, was very happy; but soon found that if he attempted to stir, he was wounded by the thorns and prickles on every side.

“However, making a virtue of necessity, he forebore to complain, and comforted himself with reflecting that no bliss is perfect; that good and evil are mixed, and flow from the same fountain.

“’These briers, indeed,’ said he, ‘will tear my skin a little, yet they keep off the dogs. For the sake of the good, then, let me bear the evil with patience; each bitter has its sweet; and these brambles, though they wound my flesh, preserve my life from danger.’”

So, now, “for the sake of the good,” as the fox said -- for our own good, the good of our Army, the good of our Country -- let’s form the best attitude possible.

Let’s not be like a camel or a porcupine or a terrapin.

Let’s be as wise as the fox and develop a sincere and sensible approach to Army life. The Army is to us. and to our Nation, what the covert of brambles was to the fox. The Army helps preserve our lives and our American way of living.

Published April, 1986. Click your browser’s “Back” button to return.