I’m used to a man in a uniform. Eddie and I met in the Army and he’s remained a soldier either full or part time ever since. I suppose the tan and green Army Combat Uniforms have become sort of hum drum for me, probably because I also had to wear them 5 days a week for 4 years. Nothing makes you feel less feminine than putting on a clunky pair of combat boots, men’s size 8, every morning. I guess when I’m wearing the same outfit as a guy, I don’t see it in the dreamy-fantasy like way that other people view a man in a military uniform. Now Eddie has a new uniform and I’m doing a double take when he goes to work every day. Button up, collared shirt with a necktie, and bulky because of the bulletproof vest he wears underneath. A leather holster around his waist with a nightstick, handcuffs, and 9-millimeter pistol. A brown, wide brimmed hat that sits straight as a ruler across his forehead. He is…a National Park Ranger. I went to visit him at work on the night shift, where he protects