My impressions of Women's Lib, straight from the front. I was there, man, just young.
Feminism. What does that mean? Good question these days.
I was born in 1965. I can vaguely remember the women burning their bras on TV. I just got a glimpse before my mother turned it off. She shrugged it off as something "the hippies" were doing. I asked why people would burn bras they had paid money for. She said that they were protesting because they didn't think they should have to conform the natural shape of their bodies with foreign objects. Those were not her exact words, of course, I was 7 years old. I don't remember her exact words, but I do remember a little history lesson that started with corsets, hit girdles somewhere in the middle and ended with bras, burned in a dumpster.
I should mention now that my mother never, to my knowledge, went anywhere but to bed without a bra. I should probably also mention, because in my opinion, this MATTERS on this subject: my mom actually had boobs. Good ones, which get plenty of attention WITH a bra on, thank-you-very-much. I am pretty sure they must have all been small boobed women, those bra burners. Or high. Maybe they were just stuck at home with the kids and would take any opportunity to get out of the house. I wouldn't really know. I was at home with my mother, who explained what she could about the movement but never waivered in her conviction of what a woman is. Or the wearing of her bra, either one.
I wonder who watched the kids while they were burning their bras? Probably their mother's, who were at home doing what women had always done: raise children and making a home. I figure those mothers were probably thinking "get real".
Next was the Equal Rights Amendment, that resulted in nothing ,for decades, but a whole lotta arguing and a new name for laudry detergent. I love the irony there. It was supposed to make sure women got paid the same as men for doing the same work. The "same" work was never satisfactorily defined. At the time, my mother "had" to go to work, as was her right after she was left with two small children. Her husband finally left her to run off with another woman. I think she was a woman, although a legal definition of "age of consent" may need to be consulted to tell for sure. Never heard if she wore a bra or not. Mom got a job at a bank, where she was not allowed to wear anything other than a skirt or a dress. Of course she wore a bra, too. I'm pretty sure they would have frowned on liberated sorts who didn't.
I do not remember hearing discussions of who would watch the children if the women went to work, but I'm sure they were going on. Maybe they were figuring their mothers would do it. I also do not remember hearing discussions of what would happen when those children got sick, but I'm sure people were discussing it. Or, they may have just figured that their mother's would do that, too. Because they always had. When you decide to change the way things have always been, there are a lot of variablesI suppose it's hard to be prepared for.
What I brought out of the whole experience was that girls were supposed to be equal to men, and get paid the same. That is pretty general, I know, but I was about 10 at this time. Honestly, I have to say it sounded good to me. I already felt I had been somehow devalued, not to mention being defensive about it, which must have been part of their plan, but it was years before that would occur to me.
Flash forward 10 years, say 1985:
We girls are all prepared to have "careers" and make all this money, only we still don't get paid the same amount as men. We are pissed about this. A lot of us aren't married because we don't feel that we have been indoctrinated to look down on women who feel they "need" a man. We are also of childbearing age now, and oddly, the pill did absolutely nothing to decrease unplanned parenthood. Since we would be working, we would also be sending our children to daycare, where they will get sick, necessitating the missing of work to take said children to the Dr. We are missing getting paid, but we have to come up with extra money for the Dr. and the pharmacy.
It occurs to me that this might have a little bit to do with the fact that we don't make as much as men. Most of the men have a wife, mother, sister, someone to do this for them. Free. I'm pretty sure that's because no women actually trust any men to take care of small, sick children. In any event, those damn men hardly ever miss work.
Madonna arrives on the scene as a pop culture icon.
Everybody starts getting boob jobs.
Oh, and anti-depressants are everywhere, and you are not to feel bad about taking them, either. It's not your fault you're depressed.
I wonder if this was what the bra burners had in mind. I think they are doing it wrong. I solidly stand behind their RIGHT to do it wrong, however. I mull over the fact that boobs have been the biggest source of money coming to females since........there have been women with boobs. I think some things never change. I think someone needs to GET REAL, but I am no longer sure whether it's "them" or me.
Instead of the ERA passing, we got something called "affirmative action", which was supposed to be good not just for women, but anyone of "minority" status. I vividly remember having a discussion of this with grown adult (around 40 years old) at this time. The adults were against it, because they said it would end up with people having to hire people because of their gender or color of their skin, which would be bad. I said that that was just silly, it was to keep people from holding any gender or color issues against you. They said "GET REAL", they are going to tell us who we can and cannot hire! I said that would be stupid. NO one would ever hire a people who weren't qualified, that would be stupid!!! Then, I am pretty sure I stomped away in a rage, as teenagers are wont to do. They probably rolled their eyes and lamented my lack of vision.
You see, I could not concieve of a time when what I thought of as adults would ever NOT be in charge. I also, and this is a luxury not available to the youth of today, was sure that common sense and justice would always prevail in America.
So, I would like to take this opportunity as an adult to apologize to the adults of yesteryear because I have to hand it to you: YOU WERE RIGHT. You know who you are.
Some kind of war between working women and stay at home moms begins. Also at issue, oddly I think, is nursing in public.
I mean, GET REAL, women have been nursing babies since....women have been having babies. It's what the ever popular and lucrative boobs are actually designed for.
At any rate, now women, instead of being attacked by other groups, feel free to attack each other. I think they are doing it wrong, and suspect their mother's are saying "I told you so".
Flash forward 20 years:
All the old rules seem to have been thrown out, along with most of what you would recognize as music.
The little girls who were raised not to compare themselves to or aspire to be Barbie dolls have steel in their faces, ink from one end to another and instead of worrying about careers, just make sex tapes or become pop stars. Which is now the same as porn, by the way, FCC rules for tv having gone through a liberation of their own.
Thanks, Madonna! (Who wears big caricatures of bra's incidentally. Coincidentally?)
I still do not negate their RIGHT to do that, but I'm wondering what kind of parent (mother) they have (Madonna? No, you may be surprised to know that she is very strict with her children. They don't even watch TV, probably for obvious reasons), and what kind of life this is going to make. I conclude that they are nothing but a cash cow to their parents, who must not be able to conceive of the notion of "nurturing" or "protecting innocence".
We have court cases because, of all the firemen who are eligible for promotions, the ones who get hired have to be black, and none of the black ones could pass the test. What to do??? Thanks affirmative action!
We have women serving in armed forces, despite having children, and soon will have openly gay people there too. I wonder who is raising their children. Not just the women's children either. This being the age of equality, gay people are going to have the right to get a job and leave their children for someone else to raise also.
On the upside, women finally gain a little in the battle to make as much as men. Woot! Woot?
Boob jobs and plastic surgery have reached a saturation point, so begins the long and no doubt painful backlash. Products said to remove tattoos flood the market.
It occurs to me that when you tell kids they can be anything, they believe you. As proof, transgenderism abounds almost as much as diagnosed cases of ADHD.
You can get any kind of drug you want as easily as going to your Dr. and requesting whatever the commercial said repeatedly right before the long and horrifying list of side effects. Except anitbiotics. There remains no black market for them unless you can get some for your pet from a vet. At least, as far as I know. If I hear of any I will be sure to let you know, though (wink wink).
Where does this leave us?
Beats the hell outta me!
All I know for sure, is this: the children have to be taken care of and it's usually the women who do it. I do not mean to take away from what a father brings to the equation. Perish the thought. Children need both a mother and father, working in tandem. One of them needs to be with the child constantly when it is small and cannot take care of itself. Traditionally, this has been the mother, due to the boobs.
We have the right to do just about anything we can imagine now. It pains me to see young girls being encouraged to devalue themselves. And being in some gansta's rap video is not something to be proud of. You can blame drugs, tv, hippies, almost anything and be a little bit right about how we got into this mess, but it seems pretty clear to me that nobody has been taking care of the kids for the last several decades. That cannot and should not be taken lightly. I think everybody should do whatever makes them happy. I just always assumed that personal dignity would always be the natural, unanimous choice of women. I think they're doing it wrong.
What have we gained?
What have we lost?
When are we going to get real?
Feel free to comment. You are anonymous unless you choose not to be.
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 9, 2011
Slogging through
I have had nothing funny happen to me lately and it's that time of year where in MO we are just slogging through till spring.
It's supposed to be 50 degrees by Sunday. I would settle for 40. Either way, it's time to get ready for the mud. I use old sheets that I have saved for years because I couldn't bring myself to throw them away. They are perfect, especially if you have dogs, or really anyone at all coming into your house. Let them come in on an old sheets. Once the shoes dry off you can gather it all up and just wash it. I have one sheet for that and one that I use to roll out noodles.
I sound like I'm 85 years old. Some day I hope to be.
I am thinking of my family members in OK, AR and South MO tonight. They are all buried under a couple of feet of snow and enduring frigid temperatures to boot. I know just how they feel. One of my cousins posted on FB today that the street crews were going up and down the streets but they weren't scooping any snow, just running with their buckets above the ground. I commented that there would surely be a farmer along soon to organize them. I'm sure there was, too.
I am reading a book called The Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All, by Allan Gurganus. I really enjoy historical reads, not to mention old people, and this is great so far. Her husband enlisted in the Confederate Army at the age of 13 ("Thirteen, and didn't even have to lie about their age. They had trigger fingers and some eyesight, didn't they? Was enough.") and came home at the age of 16. Talking about his homecoming she says:
"Just back from the war, Marsden installed his momma in rented rooms. He didn't talk to her about his own sad deeds in the historic mud of Virginia and Maryland. She couldn't yet speak, which spared her mentioning bad local luck-her getting in the path of Sherman's firebugs. The Mardsen farm had been leveled. Though she still lived and breathed, this lady's personal best-her character, the priss and fun and fuss of her-was mostly leveled too. Her ruined face and arms and chest spoke three words: Scorched Earth Policy. In twelve minutes, she'd gone from Beauty to Monster. A story there.
So, two well-brought-up souls just sat together. He would clutch his large hat on one knee. She would hold a teacup, sometimes a full one, more often empty, always white and always Spode. She slept with this safe in her palm like some child clutching its toy. And she never rolled upon or broke the thing, and rumor has it she was buried holding her favorite bone china, comforting in the casket with her."
If you have never experienced the South, the Spode reference might not have made you laugh your head off, but it did me. Sometimes life has a way of making you face reality. Not necessarily if you are a Southern woman, though, God love them! I know I am going to really love this book, and not because parts of it will be funny. Those who don't remember the past are destined to repeat it. I think it's important not to forget, no matter how vile or horrendous your experiences are. Sometimes they turn out to be the most important.
Which brings me to another piece of wisdom that hit home with me like a lightening bolt the first time I read it. I copied it down into my journal, which my kids will get to read when I die. I first read it Jan. 26, 2006. It's from The Life All Around Me, by Kaye Gibbons. She writes about strong women, often unapologetic strong women, always unforgettable strong women and this is the 2nd book she has done about the character Ellen Foster. This is the best passage about the strength of women I have ever read. It reads like a prayer, and I have gone back to it ever since. It's a very beautiful way of looking at the whole sum of your life. And you don't have to be a woman to benefit from it. I put the lines in because it should read like poetry (in my opinion, and this is my blog, so try it my way here folks, you won't be sorry) and the underlining is also mine:
"No matter where you're living, I hope you sleep peacefully tonight and waken into relief,
not so hounded by worry you miss listening for the reindeer feet, even if you've grown older, as I have,
and depend on memories of thrilling wishes.
With no regrets or grudges against the tin and timber real life around you,
let it be time to bring every memory inside you like wood you place in the fireplace peice by piece, wish by wish.
The old need that wasn't met,
the wants misunderstood,
what you absolutely knew and guessed, what you dreamed or half-invented,
saw and heard outright or saw and heard in words you read and adored,
what was done to you and calls for revenge that you let burn away.
Each thing is of the same good use, and burning together, continually, the light the bundle makes belongs to you, you're love and work, what you see by, how you are seen.
Now I understand that the deeper the dreams and beliefs,
the brighter and warmer you and the rooms you walk through are,
and you're safe now passing through old places, not dark now, more than sufficiently kept lit by you."
It has always comforted me and brought me hope. I offer it to you, in these dark days while we are still huddled by fires. Winter is almost over. Best get started on the spring cleaning, girls. (Onward ho!)
And if you are in the aftermath of a blizzard tonight, I hope you have a book to read.
.....It also is helpful to know a farmer because you are going to have to have a tractor to get all that snow removed. But take heart, you're in America, and one will probably show up soon.
It's supposed to be 50 degrees by Sunday. I would settle for 40. Either way, it's time to get ready for the mud. I use old sheets that I have saved for years because I couldn't bring myself to throw them away. They are perfect, especially if you have dogs, or really anyone at all coming into your house. Let them come in on an old sheets. Once the shoes dry off you can gather it all up and just wash it. I have one sheet for that and one that I use to roll out noodles.
I sound like I'm 85 years old. Some day I hope to be.
I am thinking of my family members in OK, AR and South MO tonight. They are all buried under a couple of feet of snow and enduring frigid temperatures to boot. I know just how they feel. One of my cousins posted on FB today that the street crews were going up and down the streets but they weren't scooping any snow, just running with their buckets above the ground. I commented that there would surely be a farmer along soon to organize them. I'm sure there was, too.
I am reading a book called The Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All, by Allan Gurganus. I really enjoy historical reads, not to mention old people, and this is great so far. Her husband enlisted in the Confederate Army at the age of 13 ("Thirteen, and didn't even have to lie about their age. They had trigger fingers and some eyesight, didn't they? Was enough.") and came home at the age of 16. Talking about his homecoming she says:
"Just back from the war, Marsden installed his momma in rented rooms. He didn't talk to her about his own sad deeds in the historic mud of Virginia and Maryland. She couldn't yet speak, which spared her mentioning bad local luck-her getting in the path of Sherman's firebugs. The Mardsen farm had been leveled. Though she still lived and breathed, this lady's personal best-her character, the priss and fun and fuss of her-was mostly leveled too. Her ruined face and arms and chest spoke three words: Scorched Earth Policy. In twelve minutes, she'd gone from Beauty to Monster. A story there.
So, two well-brought-up souls just sat together. He would clutch his large hat on one knee. She would hold a teacup, sometimes a full one, more often empty, always white and always Spode. She slept with this safe in her palm like some child clutching its toy. And she never rolled upon or broke the thing, and rumor has it she was buried holding her favorite bone china, comforting in the casket with her."
If you have never experienced the South, the Spode reference might not have made you laugh your head off, but it did me. Sometimes life has a way of making you face reality. Not necessarily if you are a Southern woman, though, God love them! I know I am going to really love this book, and not because parts of it will be funny. Those who don't remember the past are destined to repeat it. I think it's important not to forget, no matter how vile or horrendous your experiences are. Sometimes they turn out to be the most important.
Which brings me to another piece of wisdom that hit home with me like a lightening bolt the first time I read it. I copied it down into my journal, which my kids will get to read when I die. I first read it Jan. 26, 2006. It's from The Life All Around Me, by Kaye Gibbons. She writes about strong women, often unapologetic strong women, always unforgettable strong women and this is the 2nd book she has done about the character Ellen Foster. This is the best passage about the strength of women I have ever read. It reads like a prayer, and I have gone back to it ever since. It's a very beautiful way of looking at the whole sum of your life. And you don't have to be a woman to benefit from it. I put the lines in because it should read like poetry (in my opinion, and this is my blog, so try it my way here folks, you won't be sorry) and the underlining is also mine:
"No matter where you're living, I hope you sleep peacefully tonight and waken into relief,
not so hounded by worry you miss listening for the reindeer feet, even if you've grown older, as I have,
and depend on memories of thrilling wishes.
With no regrets or grudges against the tin and timber real life around you,
let it be time to bring every memory inside you like wood you place in the fireplace peice by piece, wish by wish.
The old need that wasn't met,
the wants misunderstood,
what you absolutely knew and guessed, what you dreamed or half-invented,
saw and heard outright or saw and heard in words you read and adored,
what was done to you and calls for revenge that you let burn away.
Each thing is of the same good use, and burning together, continually, the light the bundle makes belongs to you, you're love and work, what you see by, how you are seen.
Now I understand that the deeper the dreams and beliefs,
the brighter and warmer you and the rooms you walk through are,
and you're safe now passing through old places, not dark now, more than sufficiently kept lit by you."
It has always comforted me and brought me hope. I offer it to you, in these dark days while we are still huddled by fires. Winter is almost over. Best get started on the spring cleaning, girls. (Onward ho!)
And if you are in the aftermath of a blizzard tonight, I hope you have a book to read.
.....It also is helpful to know a farmer because you are going to have to have a tractor to get all that snow removed. But take heart, you're in America, and one will probably show up soon.
Feb 8, 2011
SSSSSTEAM HEAT
I am finally better.
Yesterday I went to work and blew my nose continuously until it was time for lunch. I drove straight to Wal Mart and perused the pharmacy for some kind of something to make it stop. It was just a bad cold, and there is really nothing you can take to "cure" that, so I opted for my old favorite (although not the same now) Alka Seltzer Plus Day and Night package and a new bottle of the generic equivalent of Vic's Vapor Rub. Since I was there I also got a loaf of Rye bread, to make more of those wonderful grilled cheese sandwiches. I was relieved to find it because Sunday I went to both stores that we have in town and neither one of them had any Rye bread left. I can't explain why the Super Bowl would be a reason for both grocery stores to be cleaned entirely out of Rye bread, but I'm sure that one exists. I am less certain that it can justify the fact that I had to get out twice in terrible weather while I was sick as a dog to finally obtain some.
Once home I ate lunch and prepared my potion. I called work and told them I was getting ready to take cold medication and I was pretty sure I was going down for the count, I would try again tomorrow. I'm pretty sure they spent a good 1/2 hour Lysoling down the office, and more power to them, says I.
I did not waste any time choosing between the Day or Night type, as the thing I've always liked best about Alka Seltzer Plus is the fact that it all knocks me out like a light.
I smeared the Vapor Rub all over my chest, nose and lips, plugged in the vaporizer, positioned a box of kleenex and a trash can in the right places, crawled into my wonderful bed, and knocked back the potion. It was bad. It always is. I only use the smallest amount of water I can to make it a smaller amount. Drinking it counts as a sacrifice in itself, one I was happy to make. It worked like a charm and I am happy to say that I slept for 4 hours. Then another two. Then, after getting up to do supper, I went back to bed about 8:30 pm. I woke up without a runny nose. This could very well have just been the limit to the runny nose. Three days solid. I went through a box of Kleenex each day.
On vaporizers, I use the old kind. The ones with actual steam. Mine even has a little place scooped out that is specifically for you to put Vapor Rub in so that it will send it's penetrating steam all over the room. It is worth more than gold to me, because you can't get them anymore. Years ago somebody decided you shouldn't use those anymore, you should use cool mist instead. I don't know who it was, but I don't think it was anyone who had tried a cool mist vaporizer. When I heard it, I politely looked at the ground and said nothing. The same way I did when probably that same person decided it was bad to feed babies before they were 6 months old. I looked at the ground and said nothing because I thought it was the polite thing to do. I grew up with steam vaporizers, and had been slipping mashed potatoes and gravy to small babies for DECADES at that point. So had everyone I knew. I hoped "they" wouldn't embarrass themselves too bad, because the fact was that everyone knew better than that.
I have never changed a thing, but "they" change their minds every 5 years or so. I don't think most people pay them much attention either. But there seem to be some that don't have any common sense at all. I wonder who raised them. I'm afraid no one did.
And I am wondering if it wouldn't have been quicker and easier to call "them" on this kind of crap the first time I heard it. Maybe we all should have?
I leave you with this clip of Georgette from the Mary Tyler Moore Show singing Steam Heat. It was the one and only time they ever let her be the least bit sexy on that show, and it's from a time that I miss. A time that did not seem so conflicted. At least not to me. I was, like, nine years old, but still. A time when there were still adults in charge. Enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVrC6o9sEcU
Yesterday I went to work and blew my nose continuously until it was time for lunch. I drove straight to Wal Mart and perused the pharmacy for some kind of something to make it stop. It was just a bad cold, and there is really nothing you can take to "cure" that, so I opted for my old favorite (although not the same now) Alka Seltzer Plus Day and Night package and a new bottle of the generic equivalent of Vic's Vapor Rub. Since I was there I also got a loaf of Rye bread, to make more of those wonderful grilled cheese sandwiches. I was relieved to find it because Sunday I went to both stores that we have in town and neither one of them had any Rye bread left. I can't explain why the Super Bowl would be a reason for both grocery stores to be cleaned entirely out of Rye bread, but I'm sure that one exists. I am less certain that it can justify the fact that I had to get out twice in terrible weather while I was sick as a dog to finally obtain some.
Once home I ate lunch and prepared my potion. I called work and told them I was getting ready to take cold medication and I was pretty sure I was going down for the count, I would try again tomorrow. I'm pretty sure they spent a good 1/2 hour Lysoling down the office, and more power to them, says I.
I did not waste any time choosing between the Day or Night type, as the thing I've always liked best about Alka Seltzer Plus is the fact that it all knocks me out like a light.
I smeared the Vapor Rub all over my chest, nose and lips, plugged in the vaporizer, positioned a box of kleenex and a trash can in the right places, crawled into my wonderful bed, and knocked back the potion. It was bad. It always is. I only use the smallest amount of water I can to make it a smaller amount. Drinking it counts as a sacrifice in itself, one I was happy to make. It worked like a charm and I am happy to say that I slept for 4 hours. Then another two. Then, after getting up to do supper, I went back to bed about 8:30 pm. I woke up without a runny nose. This could very well have just been the limit to the runny nose. Three days solid. I went through a box of Kleenex each day.
On vaporizers, I use the old kind. The ones with actual steam. Mine even has a little place scooped out that is specifically for you to put Vapor Rub in so that it will send it's penetrating steam all over the room. It is worth more than gold to me, because you can't get them anymore. Years ago somebody decided you shouldn't use those anymore, you should use cool mist instead. I don't know who it was, but I don't think it was anyone who had tried a cool mist vaporizer. When I heard it, I politely looked at the ground and said nothing. The same way I did when probably that same person decided it was bad to feed babies before they were 6 months old. I looked at the ground and said nothing because I thought it was the polite thing to do. I grew up with steam vaporizers, and had been slipping mashed potatoes and gravy to small babies for DECADES at that point. So had everyone I knew. I hoped "they" wouldn't embarrass themselves too bad, because the fact was that everyone knew better than that.
I have never changed a thing, but "they" change their minds every 5 years or so. I don't think most people pay them much attention either. But there seem to be some that don't have any common sense at all. I wonder who raised them. I'm afraid no one did.
And I am wondering if it wouldn't have been quicker and easier to call "them" on this kind of crap the first time I heard it. Maybe we all should have?
I leave you with this clip of Georgette from the Mary Tyler Moore Show singing Steam Heat. It was the one and only time they ever let her be the least bit sexy on that show, and it's from a time that I miss. A time that did not seem so conflicted. At least not to me. I was, like, nine years old, but still. A time when there were still adults in charge. Enjoy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVrC6o9sEcU
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