Beyond the Point(126)
Hannah took a deep breath. She picked up the phone, flipped it open, and pressed it against her ear.
She said hello.
It was a small act, to answer that call. But it wasn’t small to Hannah. In taking that breath—in saying hello—she told the world that she was still here. That she was still breathing. And in that way, it felt like a beginning.
Acknowledgments
The great thing about being a writer is that I’ll never have a band threaten to play me off stage when I’m trying to say thanks.
First and foremost, this book would not exist if it weren’t for my friend, mentor and creative consultant, Dionna McPhatter, who originally envisioned telling a story about the experiences of women at West Point, and entrusted me to do the job. From the beginning to end, she offered belief, encouragement, financial support, creative solutions, and a listening ear, and never failed to provide a hearty kick in the butt when I needed it. You inspire me in every way and I’m grateful God put you in my living room twenty years ago. The best is yet to come.
To my agent, Alison Fargis: I am forever grateful that you own a piece of real estate across the Hudson River from West Point. Thank you for pushing me to revise this manuscript into the novel it is today. Thanks also to Maria Ribas, who saw promise in my writing and introduced me to Stonesong.
I owe many thanks to my editor, Lucia Macro—your suggestions for this book helped tie up so many of my loose ends. And to the entire William Morrow team at HarperCollins—thank you for your kindness, enthusiasm, and prompt attention.
I am indebted to a long list of women who candidly shared their memories, feelings and experiences with me, without reservation. Jen Wardynski, Jackie Asis, Charlsey Mahle, Mandy Psiaki, Katie del Castillo Vail, Haley Dennison Uthlaut, Tiffany Allen Archuletta, Abby Moore, Mallory Fritz Wampler, Jenny Jo Hartney, Ariel Gibson, Kristin Gatti, Caroline “Annie” Pestel, Mary Tobin, Jenn Menn, Sarah Travaglio. Thank you for your vulnerability, courage, and patience as I asked so many invasive questions.
West Point is a small community with roots that extend deep and wide. Thank you to the many cadets and families who made an impact on my life during my most formative childhood years—especially Laura Walker (Class of ’03), Tim Cunningham (Class of ’06), Emily Perez (Class of ’05), and John Ryan Dennison (Class of ’04)—strong men and women of character who were killed in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
To my parents, Bee and Laura. Mom, your wise counsel helped guide me during the years it took to write this book. Thank you for being one of my most early trusted readers, and for inspiring what I believe is the character at the heart of this book. Dad, your brilliance in engineering is the reason we lived at West Point in the first place. Thank you for your reflections on 9/11, for your selfless service to our country, and for always reminding me to “chip away at it.”
To the community of writers, artists and encouragers in Nashville and beyond. Thanks to Lauren Ledbetter whose hand-drawn illustration resides in the first few pages of this book. To Russ Ramsey, I finally did what you told me to do; now go write your memoir. Katherine Carpenter, you read the first words of this thing, and managed not to laugh—bless you. And many more thanks are due to Holly Sharp, Sarah and Andrew Trammell, Shelley Ellis, Amelia Cornish, Jamie Lidell, Joe Johnson, Lisa Burzynski, Kim Green, and Susannah Felts. And a huge thanks to the ragtag community of homeless creatives that find shelter (and caffeine) at Ugly Mugs in East Nashville.
And finally, my deepest gratitude is and always will be reserved for my husband, Patrick, whose long-suffering patience, love, and kindness have sustained me in every way. Thank you for loving a broken vessel like me. RILY.
P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
About the Author
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Meet Claire Gibson
About the Book
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How This Book Came to Be
Photos and Interviews with Women of West Point
Reading Group Discussion Guide
About the Author
Meet Claire Gibson
An Army kid who grew up at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, CLAIRE GIBSON is a writer and avid reader whose work has been featured in the Washington Post and the Christian Science Monitor, among many other publications. She lives in Nashville, Tennessee, with her husband, Patrick, and their son, Sam. Visit her website at www.clairegibson.com.
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About the Book
How This Book Came to Be
As an Army brat, it’s hard for me to remember all the houses I’ve lived in because I’ve lived in so many. But I’ll never forget the house on Ruger Road. Like West Point itself, it was built in the 1800s and wasn’t afraid to boast about its history. It was four stories, with a kitchen in the basement and a dumbwaiter that lifted things (like the neighbor’s cat) to the dining room on the second floor. I think it’s condemned now, and probably should have been when we moved in. But I didn’t know the difference. I was only ten. My father, a lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army with a PhD in systems engineering, had joined West Point’s faculty. All I knew was that we were going to get to stay in one place for a while.
From 1997 to 2003, our lives focused almost completely on cadets. My father taught them. My mother hosted them. My sisters dated them. And I looked up to them (and, err . . . also dated some). Much like Wendy Bennett, my mom was the perpetual hostess, leading a Fellowship of Christian Athletes huddle, and turning our home into an unofficial bed and breakfast for West Point’s busiest events, like R-Day and graduation.