Their skins were different colors but they all belonged to the same ethnic group: Military. Black kids didn't talk like black kids. Asian kids didn't bust their asses to excel in school. White kids, by and large, didn't have any problem getting along with the black and Asian kids. And girls knew their place. They all had the same moms with the same generous buttocks in stretchy slacks and the same frosted-and-curling-ironed hairdos, and they were all basically sweet and endearing and conforming and, if they happened to be smart, they went out of their way to hide it.
--Neal Stephenson, Snow Crash, p58
As a child of a person who is in the Army, Navy, Air Force, or Marines, there are roughly two paths available:
- Be a total fuckup. Do lots of drugs. Have unprotected sex. Drop out without tuning in or turning on.
- Join the military. Be just like dad. (or, more recently, mom)
Note that some overlap is possible here. While these are not truly the only options available, between the two of them they encompass 95% of the people I knew who happened to be
stationed where I was.
Being a bad correspondent, a "where I lay my head is home" attitude, and the ability to make acquaintances quickly are all halmarks of a military dependent.