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How Everything Became War and the Military Became Everything: Tales from the Pentagon

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Rosa Brooks

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“He didn’t want to be an absentee father. He didn’t want to be like his own father, who thought being a provider was his only obligation to his family. There was a hell of a lot more to parenthood than providing all the material necessities. Rafael wanted to be there for all the school plays, the soccer games. He wanted to be the one to put money under his kid’s pillow when he lost a tooth and pretend that it was the tooth fairy. He wanted to be a father. The best father he could be.”

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“After you told me about the shirt cuff, I told you about the time I spilled ink on a map in my father's study." He shook his head, baffled. "It was a rare two-hundred-year-old map of the British Isles," Merritt explained. "I'd gone into my father's study to play with a set of inkwell bottles, which I'd been told not to do. But they were such tempting little etched glass bottles, and one of them was filled with the most resplendent shade of emerald green you've ever seen. I dipped a pen in it, and accidentally dribbled some onto the map, which had been spread out on his desk. It made a horrid splotch right in the middle of the Oceanus Germanicus. I was standing there, weeping with shame, when Papa walked in and saw what had happened." "What did he do?" Keir asked, now looking interested. "He was quiet at first. Waging a desperate battle with his temper, I'm sure. But then his shoulders relaxed, and he said in a thoughtful tone, 'Merritt, I suspect if you drew some legs on that blotch, it would make an excellent sea monster.' So I added little tentacles and fangs, and I drew a three-masted ship nearby." She paused at the flash of Keir's grin, the one that never failed to make her a bit light-headed. "He had it framed and hung it on the wall over his desk. To this day, he claims it's his favorite work of art." Amusement tugged at one corner of his mouth. "A good father," he commented.”

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“Look, some people prefer they,” Alex said. “They’re non-binary or mid-spectrum or whatever. If they want you to use they, then that’s what you should do. But for me, personally, I don’t want to use the same pronouns all the time, because that’s not me. I change a lot. That’s sort of the point. When I’m she, I’m she. When I’m he, I’m he. I’m not they. Get it?” “If I say no, will you hurt me?” “No.” “Then no, not really.” She shrugged. “You don’t have to get it. Just, you know, a little respect.” “For the girl with the very sharp wire? No problem.” She must have liked that answer. There was nothing confusing about the smile she gave me. It warmed the office about five degrees.”

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