Things are even more different for me. Typically, when people say, “You can’t go home again” it’s a metaphorical statement referring to the very phenomena that Tim and others have been describing. But as a military brat, it’s much more literal for me.
Growing up on Air Force bases in the ‘60s and early ‘70s was much different than the current military atmosphere. I spent my high school years in Germany, first in Wiesbaden and later at Ramstein when HQ USAFE moved from Lindsay Air Station to Ramstein AFB. We did have some problems with the Baader-Meinhof gang and a few other wannabes blowing up American installations in the early ‘70s, but even then, in the middle of the Cold War, there wasn’t the same atmosphere of tight security and fear of terrorism that you see now.
In Wiesbaden we lived on the economy in Wiesbaden-Bierstadt rather than in base housing. But even so, I remember things being more open. The Crestview and Aukamm housing areas were completely open and unguarded, as was the entire Hainerberg area which included not only housing, but a chapel, two or three schools, a movie theater, the BX, the commissary, the American Express, and a bunch of other stuff. No fences, no gates, no guards, no nothing.
Ramstein wasn’t a lot different. We did live on the base there. There was more of a show of security there, but everybody knew it was a joke. There were fences and gate guards at the two main gates, but many other ways in and out. There wasn’t a road, but there was a regular gate right around the corner from our building where people (mostly maids) walked in and out from Ramstein village. There were at least two others that I’m aware of over on the other side in the NCO housing. Practically across the street from where I lived there was a section of fence missing that was big enough to put a two-lane road through – and in fact, there was a dirt road that went right along the fence, so anybody could easily drive on or off base without any control at all. There were several similar sections of downed or missing fence over by the NCO housing as well.
Ramstein didn’t have a high school back then, so we all went to Kaiserslautern American High School. Just like Hainerberg in Wiesbaden, the entire Vogelweh area was open. You needed a military ID to get into the PX or commissary, to buy movie tickets, and things like that, but anybody could drive in and go where they wanted.
There’s a growing awareness of issues surrounding growing up in the military. One thing we all have in common is a lack of a “home”. When asked where we’re from, most will answer, “nowhere” or maybe, “everywhere”. I can identify with that. I usually say, “nowhere”. But I spent my high school years in Germany and even after all these years, Germany seems more like “home” than anywhere else. The “can’t go home” thing really hit me the last time I was in Germany. I tried to get onto the base at Ramstein. I’m obviously an American and I was just wanting to go to the American Express. No dice. No military ID, no entry. Period. So in my case it's not just that things have changed. In my case, I really can’t go back.
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A trip back to the days of 6th grade in the mountains of NE Alabama...
I never could figure out why the came to Alvin to cruise 
These were the days of the first "Monster" trucks that the redneck crowd would jack up sky high and mount swamper tires on them.
Rock on Tim!
