My Familygrams
what I sent down to the bottom of the ocean, and what I learned
back to Somewhere Under the Atlantic

Dustin said I could put these up. He keeps every familygram I've ever sent folded up in a little tin in his rack on the boat, and when he comes home he brings the tin home too, and they go in a shoebox in our closet. These are from his first two patrols since we got married. The ones from this patrol stay between us until he's home.

I've left off all the dates. Old habits, good habits. They're numbered in the order I sent them.

Patrol One
in which Joann learns everything the hard way

What I learned: this one was my second try. The first try was three words over the limit and the ombudsman sent it back. I sat in the car and cried over three words, then went home and cut "very very" and "really." Those were the three. He didn't miss them.

What I learned: I sent #2 four days after #1. Then #3 two days later. I was so lonely I used most of my familygrams in the first three weeks, and then I had to sit on my hands for the rest of the patrol. Vicki told me later that every first-patrol wife does that. Spread them out.

What I learned: this is the worst familygram I ever wrote, and I'll tell you why. Here's what was really going on that week: the car had died in the school parking lot and I'd had to get a jump from the principal. I couldn't say that, so I wrote nothing at all, and it came out sounding like a telegram from a stranger. When he got home he told me it worried him more than anything, because it didn't sound like me. Lesson: no bad news, but don't go blank either. Find the good thing that happened. There's always a good thing. That week, the good thing was the principal wears suspenders with little ducks on them.

What I learned: "almost cheeseburger time" was our code for "not long now." It doesn't say anything about any date, and it made him grin for a week, he said. Inside jokes are worth their weight in words.

Patrol Two
in which Joann gets the hang of it

What I learned: what a difference it made to have somewhere to go that first week. That potluck was where I met Erika, Jackie and Vicki. I'd been too shy to go during the first patrol. Don't be too shy. Go.

What I learned: you can mention a holiday. It's not a secret that Thanksgiving happened. Just don't tie it to anything about the boat.

What I learned: little true stories. He told me he read this one maybe thirty times. A sonar tech who spends all day listening to the ocean likes to picture a dog in a jingle-bell collar, apparently.

What I learned: Christmas alone was hard. I cried writing this one, and then I rewrote it until there was nothing sad left in it. That's the job. You hold the sad part yourself and send him the warm part.

What I learned: the last one should make him smile all the way in.

If you're writing your first one

Sit down with a pencil, not a pen. Write everything you want to say. Then cross out everything that's sad, scary, a question, or about the boat. Then cross out every "very" and "really." Then count. Then count again. What's left is a familygram.

And it's okay if it isn't perfect. He'll read it thirty times anyway.