I Heart My Vet

If someone had told me 20 years ago that I'd be married to a United States Army Veteran, I would have said, a host of things, and none of them nice.

I was fairly liberal back in my college days, and I still am. I demand love not war. When I met Hubby, not only was I un-impressed he graduated from West Point, I didn't even know what West Point was.

Though, in my mind I envisioned a reeling left- hand point break wave, peeling for miles. And I probably lost interest in the West Point topic after he answered my question of, "Any surf at West Point? " with a disappointing, "No. "

Now while I knew nothing about West Point, I have to say everyone else did. They all thought it was a pretty big deal, and this helped Hubby's courting case A LOT. People, whether I knew them or not, liked to tell me about how hard it was, "Just to get into that school!"

"He had to get recommended by a Member of Congress, you know," they would all tell me.

The notion that he might have to kill people, somehow, did not stop me from falling madly in love with Mr. Officer, who was also a fine gentlemen, indeed. I was so crazy about him I even went out in public one day wearing his sweatshirt, just to feel close to him while we were apart.

"Oh my goodness," says a lady in line at the bank. "Did your husband go to USMA (pronounced use-ma)? So did mine!"

Where would she get an idea like that I wondered? And why does she think I have a husband? (We were not married at the time.)

"No, " I say slowly. "Then I spew out, full of pride, "he went to West Point, " which I was sure had to be waaaaaay better than Use-Ma, whatever that was?

"Hmphf, " she says looking straight down her nose, shooting laser beams through her eyes. "Use-Ma IS West Point, " she says while pointing at the letters on his sweatshirt, I was wearing.

U-S-M-A. Short for United States Military Academy, pronounced Use-Ma, also known as West Point.

Oooops.