On Charity

6 Years On

Howdy,

I’ve always had problems with faith. It’s never exactly been my bag. Like nearly everyone I know, my faith is private. At times, I wear the yarmulke, but not often. I hardly attend synagogue, but I pray daily. I find it a calming exercise. The ritual is what I like. I don’t think I’m having a conversation with G*d, but more a ritual to remember my place in the world.

Yet the most significant leap of faith was marrying my wife, the lovely Charity. We dated for one year — and it was a great year — before I departed for Korea, and she stayed in Kansas City to start her career as a principal. Before Charity, I had left many women behind, only to watch those relationships deteriorate for various reasons, many of them due to me, to be honest.

Wars and the violence that comes with it ruined my relationships. Now, I had agency in all of these endeavors. But, the war always came first. Any relationship came a distant second. That was never fair to the lovely ladies I dated. But, alas, I was hooked on the drug of purpose.

Yet, our relationship survived somehow. I decided I would try because she was lovely. She was beautiful, intelligent, and competent. I love competent women. I never understood why men would be intimidated by competence. I understand being nervous around “supermodels.” But women who can execute—well, that’s my jam.

Charity is a small-town Kansas girl from Quinter. She was the Homecoming Queen (she dated the quarterback on her high school team—lame!). She comes from a wonderful, enormous family. There are so many cousins that I can never keep track of them all. The Zeiglers, my friends, roll deep.

(Note: Some folks are called Zieglers. We don’t associate with them. It’s a feud. I’ve picked my team).

She flew out to see me in Korea and gambled on me, too. After that visit, I decided to stay in my apartment for the next two years, write, and try to become a serious person. It was time. I was 39. The bar scene finally lost its fun (well, not completely).

So, for the next year, we made it work. Somehow, we continued dating across the world. Finally, after a trip home, I decided she was the one. I loved her. I knew it would be difficult, but I didn’t want to lose her.

There was no fairy tale moment. We had to talk about it. (How did you not talk about it before?) She was interested in settling down, too. She picked out a ring, and I bought the exact one she liked. We were older. Surprises are for younger kids.

Our wedding anniversary is 22 December 2018. However, like all military couples, we got married before the ceremony. Our “real” anniversary is 5 May 2018 — Cinco de ‘Mayo (coincidence).

There was no point in waiting for our ceremony. We could pull the trigger and get more money from Uncle Sam while also extending our benefits package. We married later in life, so practicality sometimes trumps romance.

So we dressed up, sauntered down to Olathe, Kansas, and got hitched at the Justice of the Peace. One of Charity’s cousins and her husband were our witnesses. It was lovely.

Then I went back to Korea. Then, I went to DC for a year to train for Afghanistan. Then I went to Afghanistan. She stayed in KC the entire time.

We got pregnant right before I left for Afghanistan. She told me when I arrived. I caught the birth but missed most of the pregnancy. I hate that. That’s something I wish I had experienced. Charity handled it like a pro, but I know how hard that was on her.

After three years of marriage, we finally started living together in June 2021. We had a new baby, I was a commander, and Charity was spending time with our little girl.

Then Afghanistan fell apart, as did my life. I’ve written a lot about this so I won’t belabor the point. It was horrible, traumatic work. I lost too many friends. I’ve nearly forgotten them all.

She raised our daughter basically on her own. I was too busy being a commander and trying to save Afghans. Charity took the brunt of that time, too. My mood swings became erratic. I struggled to stay sane. Toward the end of my command tour, I started seeing hallucinations.

The second best choice of my life—marrying Charity was the #1—was volunteering to go to the funny farm. I needed it. I had to rest and talk about Afghanistan, Iraq, and all the demons I carried—-and some that I still can’t shake.

While I was gone, she held down the fort. She juggled her life around me, all the things I was doing, everything I had to do to get better because you may not have noticed this about me before—but I can be a handful. G*d bless her.

This January I retired, and we moved to Kansas City.

Now, it’s Charity’s turn to shine. Of course, she got hired to be a principal. She’s an All-Star, folks. She’s the real leader in the marriage. I’d rather write, talk, and goof off. She’s far more serious than me.

There were moments along the way when I had doubts. Who doesn’t? What we went through together — four years apart, a deployment to Afghanistan, having a baby during COVID, watching Afghanistan fall apart, my trip to the looney bin, etc.—would’ve crushed most couples.

But we kept on grinding.

And now, the Grumpy Combat Veteran gets to sit around and create while he watches his wife build and mold an institution. I love it. Her kids don’t know this yet, but they just hit the lottery.

I’m going to lean into being a trophy husband, but I must cut down on the late-night snack runs!

Until Next Time