🎤Interview with Giselle Mascarenhas, Author of She Forgot She Was Free #AuthorInterview

Giselle Mascarenhas is the founder of BECOME™, creator of the BECOME Methodology™, and author of She Forgot She Was Free. An entrepreneur, speaker, and transformational guide, she has dedicated her life’s work to helping people reconnect with who they were created to be so they can live with greater purpose, freedom, and intentionality.

After years of building businesses, leading organizations, and walking through seasons of personal growth, Giselle recognized that lasting transformation does not begin with external success, it begins with remembering one’s authentic identity. That realization became the foundation of the BECOME Method™, a proprietary methodology designed to guide individuals through a transformational process of self-awareness, healing, alignment, courageous action, and embodied growth. Unlike a framework that offers guidelines for achieving a specific outcome, The BECOME Method™ is a comprehensive method of personal advancement that can be applied across every area of life, leadership, and purpose.

Her debut book, She Forgot She Was Free, is both a deeply personal memoir and an invitation for readers to embark on their own journey of remembrance. Through honest storytelling, reflection, and faith, the book explores the universal experience of losing ourselves beneath expectations, fear, pain, and performance, and the courageous journey of rediscovering the freedom, identity, and purpose that have always existed within us. Rather than simply telling her story, Giselle invites readers to see themselves in its pages and begin writing the next chapter of their own lives.

The book became the catalyst for the broader BECOME movement, an expanding ecosystem of transformational experiences designed to help people move beyond inspiration into intentional action. Through immersive workshops, retreats, leadership development, educational programs, community experiences, publishing initiatives, and speaking engagements, Giselle equips individuals with practical tools to create meaningful and lasting transformation. Every experience is grounded in the belief that personal growth is not about becoming someone different but remembering and embodying the person God uniquely created each of us to be.

Known for her ability to blend heartfelt storytelling with practical application, Giselle creates spaces where people feel seen, challenged, and empowered to take meaningful action. Her presentations combine vulnerability, strategic thinking, and actionable guidance, allowing audiences to leave not only inspired but equipped with a clear path forward. Her work resonates with entrepreneurs, leaders, professionals, educators, faith-based communities, and individuals seeking deeper purpose and authentic fulfillment.

Beyond her work as an author and speaker, Giselle is passionate about developing leaders who create ripple effects within their families, businesses, organizations, and communities. She believes transformation is contagious, that when one person remembers who they are and chooses to live courageously, they give others permission to do the same. This philosophy continues to shape every initiative within the BECOME movement.

Through future books, collaborative publishing projects, leadership academies, retreats, and global speaking engagements, Giselle’s mission is to help millions of people reconnect with their God-given identity and become the fullest expression of who they were created to be. She envisions BECOME as a worldwide movement that empowers individuals to live intentionally, lead authentically, and create lasting impact for generations to come.

Giselle lives in Texas with her family and continues to write, teach, speak, and expand the global reach of the BECOME movement. Whether on stage, in the pages of a book, or through transformational experiences, her message remains the same: the person you are searching for has never been lost, you have simply forgotten who you are. Remember. Rise. BECOME.

Visit her website at www.thebecomemethod.com.

Connect with her on social media at:

╰┈➤Twitter: https://x.com/giselleempowers

╰┈➤ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/giselleempowers

╰┈➤Instagram: https://instagram.com/giselleempowers

╰┈➤Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21957760.Giselle_Mascarenhas

 

Can you tell us a little about yourself? Are you a full time author?

I am an author, but I wouldn’t call myself a full-time author. I’m a builder.

For most of my life, I have built businesses, developed people, created communities, and taken ideas that existed in someone’s imagination and helped turn them into something real.

Today, I am the founder of The BECOME Method™, and my work is centered around helping women remember who they were before the world told them who they needed to be.

I am also a wife, a mother, a grandmother, and someone who is still very much in her own process of becoming.

She Forgot She Was Free is my first book, but writing it helped me understand that storytelling has always been part of what I do. I just didn’t always use a book to do it.

I don’t think of myself as someone who has arrived and is now teaching everyone else how to get there. I am living this work right alongside the women I serve.

I think that’s important.

BECOME isn’t something I created from a textbook.

I lived it first.

You have been building businesses and leading organizations for years. Would you like to tell us a little bit about that?

Building is probably one of the most natural things I do.

I can see something before it exists.

Throughout my career, I have helped build businesses, brands, communities, programs, movements, and leaders. Most recently, I served as COO of a women’s empowerment organization where I helped develop chapters across the United States and Canada and was preparing for expansion into South America.

And I loved that work.

But there was an unexpected lesson waiting for me inside all of that success.

I had become incredibly good at helping other people build their dreams.

I wasn’t nearly as good at betting on my own.

That realization changed the direction of my life.

I began to see how often I had placed myself behind powerful people, powerful brands, and powerful movements. I could recognize greatness in someone else immediately, develop it, create strategy around it, and help bring it into the world.

But somewhere along the way, I had made myself smaller.

Eventually, God began asking me to take all of that ability I had spent years pouring into everyone else and finally use it to build what He had placed inside me.

That is the season I am in now.

And it has become some of the most meaningful work of my life.

Can you tell us about your latest book,

She Forgot She Was Free: Returning to the Girl You Were Before the World Got Loud?

She Forgot She Was Free is a memoir-style journey back to the girl you were before the world got loud.

It begins with little Gi, the little girl I was before I learned to perform for love, approval, belonging, achievement, or acceptance, and follows the moments in my life when I slowly forgot that I was already whole.

Some of those moments were enormous.

Others would look almost insignificant to someone else.

That’s actually one of the reasons I wrote the book.

We can make lifelong decisions from something that happened in a matter of minutes.

Someone embarrasses you at eight years old and suddenly you decide it isn’t safe to dance.

Someone you love disappoints you and you decide people can’t be trusted.

You experience rejection and decide you need to achieve in order to be valuable.

Then thirty or forty years later, you are still making decisions from a belief you don’t even remember creating.

The book explores my own versions of those moments, not because I believe my story is extraordinary, but because I believe women will recognize pieces of their own stories inside mine.

Ultimately, this book isn’t about becoming a better woman.

It’s about remembering that the woman underneath all those layers was already there.

Can you pick out a passage in your book to share with us?

There are so many passages that mean something to me, but this one holds the heart of the book:

“You do not find yourself.
You return to her.”

And that is really what I want a woman to understand.

We spend so much time searching for ourselves as though we disappeared somewhere.

I don’t believe you disappeared.

I believe life happened.

You adapted. You survived. You achieved. You became responsible. You learned what received approval and what didn’t. You picked up identities that helped you belong.

And underneath all of it, you are still there.

Is this your only book?

For now!

She Forgot She Was Free is my first book, and becoming an author wasn’t something I had mapped out for myself.

In fact, God spent about a year nudging me to write it before I finally listened.

So I’ve learned not to tell God what I’m not going to do next!

What I do know is that the book opened something in me. It showed me the power of using our stories, not to remain inside what happened to us, but to understand what it cultivated within us and then use it to serve someone else.

Whether the next expression of that is another book, an anthology, or something I haven’t imagined yet, I am open.

How can people benefit from reading

She Forgot She Was Free: Returning to the Girl You Were Before the World Got Loud?

I hope they stop trying to fix themselves.

That’s the benefit I want more than anything.

I want a woman to read this book and begin recognizing where today’s decisions may actually be coming from yesterday’s wounds.

Where did you learn to become smaller?

Where did you learn that love had to be earned?

Where did you stop trusting yourself?

Where did someone else’s opinion become your truth?

Where did survival become an identity?

And then I want her to look at all of it with love instead of shame.

Because my message isn’t, “Look at everything that’s wrong with you.”

It’s the opposite.

Look at everything you survived. Look at everything you learned. Look at the woman who is still standing underneath all of it.

You are not almost whole.

You are not working toward wholeness.

You are WHOLE right now.

The work is remembering.

Thank you so much for this interview, Giselle. What’s next for you?

BECOME.

The book helped me understand that what I thought was a personal journey was actually the foundation of my life’s work.

Today I am building BECOME as an ecosystem of experiences designed to help women move from remembering into living.

That includes The BECOME Method™, Dream Labs, BECOME THE CAMP, anthology experiences, methodology development, and other spaces where women can uncover what is theirs and begin building from that truth.

But I’m also trying to stay very present with what God is showing me next.

For most of my life, I thought being powerful meant knowing exactly where I was going.

This season is teaching me something different.

Sometimes power is saying:

“God, show me what is mine.”

And being willing to move when He does.

🎤Interview with Karen Charles, Author of Evan's Stormy Voyage #AuthorInterview

Karen Charles grew up in West Africa and traveled across Africa, the Middle East, Central America, and Europe. Her rich background and lifetime experiences are reflected in the depth of her writing. In her stories, she transforms real-life narratives into gripping thriller fiction. Her novels intricately weave threads of truth into a tapestry of suspense, intrigue, and riveting storytelling. She is the author of three children’s books in the “Evan’s Adventures in Africa” series, including Freeman Earns a Bike, Evan’s Gift, and Evan’s Stormy Voyage. Her three thrillers include Fateful Connections, set in the aftermath of 9/11, and Blazing Upheaval, set during the Rodney King riots in Los Angeles and the Northridge earthquake. A Glimpse Too Far offers the mystery and heart-pounding suspense of a psychological thriller and is based on a true story. Karen Charles has two businesses—a global company that trains international teachers to teach American English and an Airbnb on a beautiful bay in Washington State, where she and her husband currently live.

Karen’s latest book is Evan’s Stormy Voyage.

Visit her website at www.weaveofsuspense.com.

Connect with her on X, Facebook and LinkedIn.

 

Can you tell us what your new children’s book, Evan’s Stormy Voyage, is about?

Eight-year-old Evan has never crossed an ocean before.

When his parents tell him they are leaving New York for West Africa, everything familiar slips away in a blur of crowded docks, towering cargo ships, and tearful goodbyes beneath the Statue of Liberty. Soon, Evan finds himself aboard a freighter crossing the Atlantic — a floating world of roaring engines, endless water, mysterious passengers, and adventures around every corner.

At first, the voyage feels magical. Evan explores the ship’s library, watches flying fish skim the waves, spots whales from the bridge, and celebrates his birthday on the open deck, lit by strings of lights. But the journey grows far more complicated when Evan meets Mateo, a quiet boy with secrets of his own.

As storms pound the ship and hurricane-force winds churn the sea, the boys form an unlikely friendship over puzzles, model ships, and long conversations about leaving home behind. Yet when Evan’s treasured airplane kit suddenly disappears, suspicion threatens to destroy the bond they have built.

Far from home and surrounded by the vast Atlantic, Evan must learn that courage is not about being fearless. It is choosing kindness when hurt runs deep, forgiveness when trust is broken, and compassion when someone needs it most.

Filled with unforgettable characters, breathtaking ocean scenes, and heartfelt moments of friendship, Evan’s Stormy Voyage is a rich coming-of-age adventure that celebrates empathy, resilience, and the power of human connection across cultures. Perfect for readers who love emotionally rich adventure stories, this second book in the Evan’s Adventures in Africa series invites children into a world of discovery they will never forget.

What is the main message or feeling you hope young readers take away from your book?

• Courage doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid. Evan can feel scared, uncertain, or overwhelmed and still keep going. That gives children a healthier picture of bravery: I can be afraid and still be brave.
• Storms are temporary. The voyage can become a gentle metaphor for difficult moments in childhood. When things feel chaotic or frightening, children can learn that they can make it through and eventually find calmer waters.
• Trust yourself and keep moving forward. Evan’s journey can encourage children to listen to their inner voice, make choices, and discover that they are more capable than they initially realize.
• You don’t have to face hard things alone. The story includes people who help Evan, reinforcing that asking for help isn’t a weakness — connection is part of courage.
• Adventure can come from uncertainty. The storm isn’t simply an obstacle; it changes Evan and teaches him something. Children can come away seeing challenges not just as things to escape, but as experiences through which they grow.

The feeling I’d want children to leave with:

“I can handle hard things. Even when I’m scared or don’t know what will happen next, I can keep going, ask for help, and trust that I can find my way.”

And emotionally, I’d want to leave them feeling brave, hopeful, comforted, and curious — not that storms are nothing to fear, but that they are not bigger than the child facing them.

That could become a particularly strong central message: “Every child has a stormy voyage sometimes — and every child has the courage to navigate it.”

If your book has pictures, how does your work with the illustrator function? Do you collaborate closely or see the art at the very end?

The illustrator who did the pictures for the first book in the Evan’s Adventures Series was unavailable, so, with great trepidation, I did the illustrations using AI. That is acknowledged at the front of the book.

How can parents or teachers use your book to start meaningful conversations with kids?

At the end of every book in the Evan’s Adventures in Africa series, there are questions for parents and teachers to use to start meaningful conversations with kids as well as activities. 

If your book could be turned into a movie, TV show, or video game, which format would you pick and why?

I would choose a movie because I think Evan’s journey would be beautiful to experience visually. The ocean, the storm, the uncertainty, and the moments of courage could create a really immersive experience for children. I also love the idea of watching Evan grow throughout the journey and seeing his emotions reflected in the world around him. A movie could capture both the excitement of the adventure and the story’s deeper message — that even when we face storms and feel afraid, we can find courage, keep going, and make it through.

When plotting out your books, do you outline everything first or write by the seat of your pants?

I plot out the story in an outline, which I change along the way.

If you could give one piece of advice to kids who want to write their own stories one day, what would it be?

Don’t be afraid to use your imagination! You don’t have to know the whole story when you start. Just begin, have fun, and let your characters take you on an adventure. And remember — your story is special because only you can tell it.

Where to purchase the book:

https://a.co/d/0frRfGi8

https://store.bookbaby.com/book/evans-stormy-voyage

Where to find Karen:

https://www.weaveofsuspense.com/post/coming-soon-book-two-in-the-evan-s-adventures-in-africa-series

🎤Interview with Mary Lawlor, Author of Fighter Pilot's Daughter #AuthorInterview

Mary Lawlor is author of a memoir, Fighter Pilot’s Daughter: Growing Up in the Sixties and the Cold War (Bloomsbury 2015) and two books of cultural criticism, Recalling the Wild: Naturalism and the Closing of the American West (Rutgers UP 2000) and Public Native America (Rutgers UP 2006). She studied at the American University in Paris, the University of Maryland, and New York University. She divides her time between Easton, Pennsylvania and Gaucin, Spain. Her novel, The Translators, is set in 12th century Spain and fictionalizes the experiences of Robert of Ketton, first translator of the Koran into Latin. She hopes to see it out next year. In the meantime, she has started a second novel, The Women’s Hospital, set in 18th century Spain and inspired by the life story of an Irish woman whose family moved to Cádiz, escaping English oppression in their own country.

╰┈➤ You can visit her website at https://www.marylawlor.net/.

Connect with her on social media at:

╰┈➤ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mary.lawlor.186/ 

 

Thank you so much for this interview, Mary. How did your family feel about having you write a book that might include them?

My parents were both gone by the time I wrote Fighter Pilot’s Daughter, and one of my older sisters had passed away. I was worried about how my other two sisters and the larger, extended family would feel about my describing intimate dynamics in the book, like my parents’ fighting or my father’s alcoholism.

But my sisters and I talked about these things, and they were supportive. Before publication, I sent them both the finished manuscript — not promising to make changes but to hear their feedback and be influenced or not by it. I know one of them has read the entire book, and she was very moved. Her response has meant the world to me.

What was it like living in military quarters and never having a ‘real’ home that stayed in the same place? Do you feel it shaped who you are today?

In some ways, it wasn’t so much of an issue, since from the time we were very young, my sisters and I were moving every two years or so. It was all we knew and all we expected. The other kids on the Army posts where we were stationed had the same experience.

But a couple of things complicated that normality. Whenever they could, my parents enrolled us in Catholic schools, off post, and we would find ourselves surrounded by kids who had known each other since kindergarten. Generally, they looked at us like we were irrelevant — at least at the beginning. Eventually we’d make friends and be invited to their homes, where we’d see the continuity and stability of their lives, in contrast to our own.

And there were the visits to see our New Jersey cousins, who lived in a lovely house in a country town where they’d been all their lives. They’d gone to the same school, had the same friends, and so forth. It was an ideal domestic scene, and I loved being there. I was envious of their world but couldn’t imagine it for myself. It was too far out of reach.

When we were young, the moves were exciting. My parents would talk about the places we were going — California! Germany! — and my sisters and I would start imaging what they would be like. We’d read about and picture ourselves in the new situation. As we got older and had close friends and boyfriends, the moves were more difficult. It was sad and painful to have to leave, and we wished very much we could stay in the same place. Then, again, the new place would be exciting and different. We’d make new friends, and the cycle would continue like that.

Moving so much and not having a home has shaped me a great deal. After leaving my parents for college, I kept moving and am still am not quite rooted, although I’m married and have a nice house in Easton, Pennsylvania. But every three months my husband and I shift off to Spain, where we have a cabin in the mountains of Andalucía. I love being in Spain and would move here if I could. We have friends and more of a history here than we do in Easton. We don’t, however, have residency in Spain, so after three months, we come back to Easton. The year is divided up like this, and it feels perfectly familiar to me.

In one of your interviews you said, “Memories of my girlhood and forgotten fears of nuclear apocalypse were running through my brain day and night.” I can’t imagine the fear. Can you elaborate on this and tell us how you coped?

Living on military posts, I think we had more of a sense of the potential for nuclear war than other children in America. Because our fathers’ jobs were to get the defense apparatus ready for that eventuality, we were made constantly aware of it. Civil-defense shelters were everywhere, and we practiced the “Duck and Cover” moves at school, huddling under our desks and hoping that would do the trick! On the posts in Heidelberg and Stuttgart, Germany, there was a lot of talk about the Fulda Gap, a point on the border between West and East Germany where it was predicted the Soviet army would flood through to do battle with the Germans and the rest of Europe. These images and warnings kept the possibility of nuclear apocalypse in our minds almost all the time.

Apart from that, our parents were practicing Catholics, and the story of St. John’s Apocalypse often came up in the post chaplain’s sermons. Apocalypse offered a ready analogue to the talk of nuclear annihilation, and the chaplain would build on it, trying to imbue in us a sense of how close the end of world might be. The terrifying judgement of the living and the dead and the assignment of eternal damnation or happiness was always upon us.

These twin discourses of apocalypse were in the air, in our dreams and produced what I’d call a habit of fear, a trained response to seeing whatever troubling situation emerges as a sign of the end of days. Or the end of something. Like now, so many people my age are seeing the current political situation in the US as signs of the end of democracy and, perhaps, of America. But on a more personal level, the habit of fear has stayed with me and been a real handicap to my self-development and to my ability to genuinely live with confidence. Fortunately, it’s an obvious enough problem that I’ve known about it for a long time and have spent a lot of time (and money!) trying to come to terms with and manage it in therapeutical contexts.

Can you tell us the name of some of the places you have traveled to when your father was an aviator and which were your favorite?

We lived in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, infamous as a cancer hot-spot for people who lived there in the 50s. Then there was Fort Rucker, in Dothan Alabama, where my father taught pilots how to fly helicopters and I got to ride in a Bell helicopter once — like being up in the air inside a giant eyeball. We rented a farm way out in the country and had a horse, cows, chickens, guinea hens to look after. That was hugely fun, although rural Alabama was a very unfamiliar place and the people there weren’t easy for us — especially for my mother — to understand. I go into Franny’s way of responding to southern culture in the book, but suffice it to say here that she was quite unhappy. Later we moved to Fort Benning in Columbus, Georgia, where we lived off post in a swampy development called Forestdale. There was a creek behind the house, but you had to watch out for water moccasins. I started my writing career there with a little newspaper a friend and I created, The Forestdale Gazette, in which we reported news of the neighborhood, using carbon paper for copies.

Later we moved to Fort Ord, in Monterey, California. This was really my favorite and my sisters’ too. We lived on post, but our parents enrolled us in the beautiful Carmel Mission School in Carmel, situated in an old monastery and arranged like a cloister walk around a gorgeous garden. We made friends there and loved the school, although some of the nuns were stricter than others. We stayed at Fort Ord long enough for my older sisters and me to start high school in Monterey. Then my father had orders to go to Stuttgart, so we had to say goodbye to people who had become important to us.

We crossed the Atlantic on the SS United States, an adventure in itself, which I also recount in the book. Germany opened up a whole new world. The enormous differences of language, styles of dress and manners, of what kids were allowed to do that they weren’t in the US and vice-versa, not to speak of the economic differences between them and us in those days — all these surprises were overwhelming. But it was fascinating. I scrambled to learn the German language and understand the few German friends I made. For the first couple of years we were in Stuttgart, a beautiful industrial city, and then we moved to Heidelberg, a handsome and historic university town. In both places we lived in the very closed environment of the post and didn’t get to know German people or their language or society very well. Among the military kids, my sisters and I came of age and got a taste of American teenage life that we’d never had in the States — drinking parties in the local Gasthauses that had no drinking age, and moonlit adventures in old Nazi sites. It was a strange and exotic experience which made me into a very different person than I’d been before.

Having lived through the Cold War, you know the fear of Russians invading or setting off a nuclear weapon was very real. Can you help us feel what that was like?

We were shown films in school with images of an enormous blast, followed by empty streets with trash blowing in the nuclear wind. The announcer would insist again and again that if we heard the atomic warning siren, we were to “duck and cover,” wherever we were. And we were told there might be no warning, that a blast as bright as the sun would suddenly happen, anywhere, anytime. Duck and cover movies warnings were played in schools and in the base movie theaters. Readiness warnings were issued at sports events and even in church. Repeatedly, we were told to be always alert for the warnings or the sun-bright blast itself. The message was meant to live in our psyches and be part of our thinking, our identity. We were people under threat. Nuclear holocaust was in my dreams and fueled a steady sense of fear and trepidation. From one moment to the next, you had to be ready for the world to fall apart under your feet. It was a tremendously unsettling discourse and kept all of us, I think, on edge and fearful.

I see this now in hindsight as a terrible experience for a child. Whatever the actual threat level at any given moment, ducking and covering probably wouldn’t have helped much. It only left us with a habit of fear. It probably made some of us more philosophical or religiously-minded than we might otherwise have been, given the end-of-the-world scenario we lived with all the time; but I think the more general effect was a fear, bordering on neurosis, of what could happen from one moment to the next. No wonder the late counter-culture that followed saw such an explosion of liberation and care-lessness, to counteract the intense, imposed caution of our childhood years.

In an earlier interview, you said you just wanted your mother and father to be remembered. Can you tell us what you would like people to know about them?

I think Jack and Franny were in some ways typical of their generation. Born in the 20s, they lived through the depression and came of age in the second World War. They weren’t subtle but saw things in black and white terms; and were very clear with their comments about everything from politics to homemaking. In many ways, I think they thought of themselves as opposite to the communists who they considered the enemy: communists were subtle, cagey, didn’t put their cards on the table. You couldn’t trust people like that, since what you saw wasn’t necessarily what you got.

Jack and Franny were both larger than life for me, but others outside the family responded to them as if they too saw them as striking characters. They were outspoken and definitive in their opinions. They were both loud and ready for an argument. I never heard them identify themselves as such, but they were politically independent and would size up the candidates carefully, then decide which was the better man (it was always, of course, a man). And once decided, that was it. There was little room for dialogic discussion of things, much less changing their minds.

As parents, they could be very difficult. They were strict, demanding, and kept a close eye on my sisters and I. They weren’t alone: child-rearing was like that in those days. Kids got spanked, and nobody thought it was wrong. My parents set the rules and the tone for our household, and we followed. There was no consulting us as to what we thought or hoped for or worried about.

But they were affectionate, and we knew they loved us. They hugged us a lot and always made a big deal of our birthdays. Christmas was a huge celebration with lots of good presents. And Jack and Franny were fun. Our moves across the country were always treated like adventures. The hotels, the pancake breakfasts at roadside restaurants, the sites along the routes of America — Carlsbad Caverns, Route 66, the Rocky Mountains — were part of a great expedition we were making. They inspired us with their excitement.

At a certain level, I suppose it’s simple vanity: I want them to be remembered because they meant so much to me. But they both contributed something to the world they came of age in, and they were characters of that time. I think that’s worth remembering.

What would you like future readers of your book to know?

I’d like future readers to know what life was like in the middle-to-late years of the twentieth century, particularly for the children of military families, a generally little understood component of American society. The focus of attention to US forces fighting overseas and preparing for war at home is usually on the service members themselves — all their adventures and sacrifices. I’d like readers to know more about the people who came along with them, followed in their wake — the spouses and children of the warriors. They may well not share the warrior’s priorities or even their ideology, but the children in particular are called on to be part of the picture anyway, like camp followers of all ages everywhere. I’d like people to know more about what life was like for us in our time, but I also hope readers will see how military children still experience the difficulties of moving all the time and the instability of life in warrior society. It’s an age-old portrait and one that’s little understood.