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…
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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…
2 CommentsMan Overboard
Published March 2, 2026
There are times in your life when you don’t want any attention. You want to keep your head down, your nose clean, and your name out of the public eye. Plebe Summer at the United States Naval Academy was one of those times. Attention meant correction. Correction meant public scrutiny. Public scrutiny meant some calibrated blend of humiliation and demerits. The safest strategy was invisibility. If I could have faded into the granite and brick…
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