Some of the most elegant parties of our Navy career were in this home and another one similar to it on the Charleston Naval Base in the early '90s. To a girl new to the Navy, and to the social traditions and customs that accompanied it, these homes were like the Emerald City in Oz. We were so young, and so junior then - and tried to spend more time seeing than being seen, and more time hearing than being heard. There was so much to learn and so many people to learn from! Here I saw firsthand, how senior officers wives conjured receptions, dinners and parties from the piles of cookbooks, menu suggestions and guests lists spread before them. I saw the polished staff seamlessly cook, serve and clear - without interrupting the conversation or the flow of the guests. I saw seasoned officers and their spouses share tales of their Naval histories - some embellished, and some spare of many details. I saw hosts and hostesses extend gracious hospitality to old friends and new acquaintances with equal enthusiasm. Here I was introduced to menu cards, calling cards, and the importance of keeping some simple hors d'oevres on hand - because you never know when someone might show up. I learned here to always err on the side of generosity when preparing for an event, and to introduce yourself - often. I learned that instead of being a crutch, nametags can be an invaluable social tool - and icebreaker. Here I learned that the very best parts of the Navy are the people that you meet, and then meet again years down the road.
These gracious old ladies have hosted their last reception along the Cooper River. And while they have earned their retirement after their years of dedicated service, the boarded windows, overgrown lawns, and graffiti dishonor their contribution to our Navy and our Navy's families, and it makes me sad. I prefer to remember them alive with the murmer of voices puncuated with laughter, and the sound of the little bell rung to announce dinner.