DATE: Thursday, November 6, 1997            TAG: 9711051184

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B3   EDITION: FINAL 

COLUMN: The Home Front 

TYPE: Military 

SOURCE: Jacey Eckhart 

                                            LENGTH:   73 lines

OUT-OF-NAVY EXPERIENCE CAN LEAD TO "THE LOOK"

``Wouldn't this be perfect for your nephew?'' I asked Brad, holding up a navy blue baby bunting emblazoned with an anatomically correct Bill the Goat.

``Rob would like that,'' Brad said, reaching for the price tag. We gasped in unison and put it back. Fast.

``Where is the children's section for people who actually have children?'' I whispered, looking around the store at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis. Brad laughed and pointed to a display of baby bottles and discount shoes.

``Um, excuse me,'' said a man at the top of the aisle. ``Don't I know you? From Newport? You're Brad. . . and, um, Jacey, right?''

I looked up to see a blond guy, our age, sporting a blue and gold jacket and a faintly receding hairline. I remembered him making an incredible catch on a sunny softball field a long time ago. His name was Jim or Jon or Dan or Don - one of those polo shirt/khaki pants kind of names.

``Are you here for the reunion?'' Jim asked.

``Nah. Mine was last year,'' Brad said. ``We're just up to see the game.''

Jim's wife appeared behind him, carrying an armload of kid-sized sweatshirts, sweatpants, jerseys and shorts. We exchanged names and ages and pictures of our children, feigning amazement at how childless and free we had been once upon a time.

As the conversation lagged, I asked Jim, ``Are you still in the Navy?''

``No. I'm a stockbroker now. In New Jersey,'' he replied, turning to Brad. ``What about you - in or out?''

``In,'' Brad said, and mentioned the name of the ship and his job.

``Well, that's. . . nice,'' Jim said. Then he launched into a well-rehearsed monologue about how his first job out of the Navy wasn't enough of a challenge, how he'd been recruited for his brokerage firm, how he never had to make cold calls.

I smiled faintly, looking down at the stack of tiny sweatshirts on the table. It was the same way last year at the reunion. Those still in the Navy rattled off their names, ranks and serial numbers, while most of the ones who had gotten out had carefully prepared descriptions of lives as shining and perfect as their new Range Rovers.

I tried to catch Brad's eye, but he was listening to Jim attentively, looking like he was taking mental notes a mile a minute. Brad is much better than I am about these out-of-Navy experiences. Bitter little woman that I am, I tend to take them personally. Imagine - people our age who get jobs outside the Navy, who plant trees in their own yards, who send their kids to the same schools year after year after year. People who do not deploy.

I smoothed the pile of clothing in front of me and looked up, catching something in Jim's expression that hadn't been there a moment before. Instead of the swagger and testosterone that colored his words, I saw something else printed wistfully across his face as he talked to Brad. Was it disappointment? Regret? Envy?

Surely he wasn't envying Brad. No one envies steam engineers. No one envies nine moves in 10 years. But there was something in Jim's face that reminded me of so many of the people at the reunion. He looked like a kid called in for dinner while the other kids kept playing ball - wanting to go in and eat, but also wanting to stay until the game was over and the streetlights came on.

``If we're going to get there before halftime, we have to go now, honey,'' Jim's wife said, nudging him toward the register.

We finished our shopping and headed for the stadium, down steep steps and into seats that faced thousands of mids in dress coats and white hats. Beside us, a group of much older alumni chatted comfortably. None of them had That Look. Maybe I was just dreaming it into place.

Behind us, a man tapped Brad on the shoulder. ``Don't I know you? Chemistry, maybe? Youngster year?''

This guy wasn't in the Navy anymore, either, but he had a great job in Silicon Valley. ``I bought my house at just the right time,'' he told Brad. ``It's appreciated 30 percent in just two years.''

I glanced at the man and noticed it hovering in his face - The Look. I put my hand in Brad's coat pocket and turned back to the game.

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