If you are old enough, you may recall the sonorous voice of radio broadcaster Paul Harvey. He told the most amazing stories and always ended them with, “And now you know the rest of the story.” A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post called “Stress Fractures” about the strain one of my female classmates endured during our Plebe Summer, particularly during a meal that required eating a thick peanut butter sandwich. At a recent…
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The Return of the Brigade
Published April 6, 2026
As Plebe Summer drew to a close with the reunions and celebrations of Parents Weekend, the First Class had one final reminder waiting for us on the heels of our final goodbye to family – Hell Night. As it sounds, it was a flurry and fury of uniform races, physical demands, and, of course, a lot of yelling. It was our detail’s way of making sure we didn’t get too comfortable after seeing our families…
2 CommentsStress Fractures
Published March 30, 2026
Stress fractures don’t start as breaks. They start as murmurs: small, invisible warnings the body gives before something finally gives way. A stress fracture is a tiny crack, or deep bruising, in a bone caused by repetitive, overloading forces. It usually shows up in the legs or feet when fatigued muscles stop absorbing shock and instead pass that stress directly to the bone. But not all stress fractures show up on X-rays. After eight weeks…
3 CommentsThe Tuck, The Slit, The Weird
Published March 23, 2026
Learning to wear a Navy uniform that wasn’t made for us I wore a uniform long before the Navy ever issued me one. From kindergarten through high school, I attended parochial schools where uniforms were simply part of daily life. For girls, that usually meant jumpers or skirts, pleats pressed, hems checked, shirts tucked (or retucked), and a quiet understanding that how you wore the uniform said something about you. So when I arrived at…
Leave a CommentSailing Directions
Published March 16, 2026
I’ve already admitted in an earlier post that I was not a great sailor. Sensing the wind never came naturally to me. Some people could feel it instinctively, the subtle shifts that told them how to trim the sails or change course. I could learn the mechanics, but the wind itself never quite spoke to me. What I did learn was another kind of navigation. I learned to read a room. I learned when to…
2 CommentsCool Ray
Published March 9, 2026
If you read my last post, you might remember that my regular glasses were resting somewhere at the bottom of Santee Basin on the Severn River. That left me with one option: the prescription sunglasses my mother had dropped off so I could see. Now, wearing sunglasses in uniform may not sound like a big deal. But at the Naval Academy in 1977, it absolutely was. I was the only person in the Yard wearing…
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