I yearned to be a real sailor someday. However, like most military spouses, my dreams came secondary to military life.

Visiting a grown child’s chosen university can seem like entering a different world -- and in many ways, it is.

There’s not much to do in a small town on a summer night, but we were determined to find excitement somewhere, somehow.

Eating steamed crabs is not all ruthless savagery. There is a step-by-step method that has been passed down through generations. Fire hoses, release forms and Kevlar vests are recommended.

Recently, I took a trip to Italy, requiring my 58-year-old bladder and me to frequent several airport bathrooms. It occurred to me that travel pottying has changed significantly over the years.

I’d always been content with the progression of my life as a Navy wife and mother of three, but on my 48th birthday, I couldn’t deny the unsettling reality. While going about my day, I started thinking, “You know, I’m getting kind of old. Really old.”

Clearly, my father was grooming me to take over his company one day, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’d prefer a hot poker in the eye.

At age 57 and a newcomer to sailing, I wasn’t trying to become an expert offshore racer. Realistically, I’d never fully grasp the complexities of navigation, weather and tactics. My aim was to simply be a useful member of the overall crew. But even that modest goal proved challenging.

During my teen years, I learned that whether prom was romantic, silly, boring or awkward, it always leaves an indelible mark.

One of the first lessons that military spouses learn: In the face of less-than-ideal circumstances, there’s respect in just making do.