I have devoted more and more of my time teaching other people’s children in recent years, and it has grown increasingly harder to come up with ideas for Life on the Home Front. There are plenty of funny stories to share about what goes on in elementary school classrooms, but it is not the kind of stuff for Stars and Stripes.
That is just one of the reasons why I have decided to make this my last column.
When I came up with the idea for Life on the Home Front, the boys were 3, 6 and 9. I had recently graduated from eight consecutive years of diaper-changing that included times when two were in diapers at once.
Those years may have been smelly, but they were some of the most wonderful ones of my life, or at least, I think they were. It is difficult to remember because I stumbled around in a sleep-deprived haze that began in November of 1993 with the arrival of Jimmy and lasted into the new millennium.
At some point, I caught up on my sleep enough to dream up the idea of writing a column, for military wives mostly, that would poke a little good-natured fun at the life we live as military families.
I have tried over the years to keep personal details, such as Ron’s rank, out of my column in an effort to be “just me” and not a sergeant or captain’s wife.
My goal has been to come up with columns that we could all relate to, describing my own experiences with aggressive retirees at the commissary and never-ending lines at the pharmacy.
There have, of course, been plenty of columns about experiences that were uniquely “Zich” in nature; there are certain situations only my three boys and I can get into.
Our most exciting adventures seem to happen when Ron is doing something else, usually working or fishing. I have tried not to complain about his frequent absences because I realize many of you have been going through lengthy wartime separations.
This column has provided an outlet for me to vent my frustrations and laugh at myself, sometimes both at the same time. Most of all, it has been a lot of fun.
As I write this final column, my oldest son is about to get his driver’s license, and my youngest recently informed me that it is time I start buying him “manly underwear” that doesn’t have superheroes on it.
My middle son, Tommy, is just as sweet as he was when I started this gig. Ron is on the verge of retiring from the Marine Corps and looking for a job in the civilian world.
And then there’s Glory, who was recently busted by the doggie police for running around the neighborhood. No matter how old and boring the rest of us Zichs may be, there will always be a story to tell about that one.
Thank you to those of you who have taken the time to send e-mails and letters over the years. Each one has meant a lot to me, the former little girl who wanted to grow up and be a writer like Erma Bombeck.
I could never hope to be as entertaining as she was, but I’m happy to say I think I may have provided a couple of laughs along the way.
— Sayonara, Pam Zich
A mother of three boys, Pam Zich has been married to a Marine for 19 years and currently lives in Springfield, Va.