“You’ve come a long way, baby.” Remember that commercial? If you’re younger than me which is most of the world, you won’t. That phrase was from the late 60’s Virginia Slims commercial, which got vast play, encouraging women to smoke these long, slim cigarettes. Of course, I was stupid enough to fall for it. But, I will say it was superior to rolling my own tobacco. The thought of doing that now makes me want to gag.
But, I was a product of my generation. Raised in the 50s when the men worked and the women stayed home to raise children. That didn’t work for a lot of women. It never would’ve worked for me. There were and still are a lot of dysfunctional families, including the one I was raised in. As a child, I lived for the day I could leave my circumstances and go to college.
I loved school. It was my safe haven. I wasn’t brilliant nor particularly focused but learning brought me joy. I like the challenge. The day I was tapped into the National Honor Society is one I will never forget. For the first time, I thought….well, maybe I am smart. It changed the way I thought of myself.
From the time I was six years old, I knew I was going to college. I have no idea where that came from. No women in my family were college graduates. But, I soldiered on, applied for admission in my senior high and was accepted. My parents weren’t very encouraging and it was clear there was no money forthcoming. When my guidance counselor learned I had been accepted, she called me into her office. “What a waste,” she declared, “you’re only going there to find a husband.”
Today, she probably would’ve been fired but, back then, pretty common. But, I will say that ridiculous statement was nothing if not motivating for me. I was determined to make it. Whatever that meant. Women were secretaries, nurses or teachers. None of those options appealed to me then so I I majored in something that was challenging and esoteric: Philosophy.
Oh yeah, lots of jobs out there in the 70s for women in philosophy.
Maybe the guidance counselor was right….maybe I was looking for that knight in shining armor riding on that white horse. The overwhelming majority of women did get married right out of college, me included….the day after I graduated as a matter of fact. In fact, my favorite religion professor, also an Episcopal priest, married us. I was so focused on getting my degree, I never thought beyond that. What would I do? Who was I? What did I want out of life? What was my purpose?
Obviously, I had no plan. I stumbled in and out of jobs, relationships, places to live. I was active in the National Organization of Women. I went to rallies and marches, believing I was doing the right thing to open up possibilities for women and men. I raised my oldest daughter on Free to Be You and Me. I love, love, love those songs and lyrics, even now.
I went to assertiveness training. Yes, I did that. I was raised in the South. Speaking up wasn’t easy for me. I had to unlearn all the scripts.
I have loved politics since watching JFK’s exciting campaign and election. I used to stay up and watch the conventions on TV, long before the days of cable. A time where things were actually decided at the convention. I attended the National Women’s Conference in Houston in 1977. It inspired me to attend seminars on bringing more women into politics. I wanted to be the strategist, the organizer….never the ‘talent.’
In my early 30s, I immersed myself in the world of local politics in Connecticut. I learned the strategizing, the organizing. I was a spokesperson on urban education, speaking at conferences, rallies, the state legislature. I wrote my dissertation on the impact of grassroots politics.
And then I quit. I married the man who covered me for the local newspaper. We moved to Maryland and had two more children. No regrets. It was one of the best decisions I ever made. By the time I left, I was drowning in politics. There is no life in politics. It’s a 24/7, never ending, thankless job.
It’s a job that requires non-stop fundraising and benefactors. It’s difficult to maintain independence and integrity, especially at the national level. I admire Barney Sanders and Elizabeth Warren; they’re truly swimming against the current.
But, the truth is we have come a long way, baby. When I graduated from college in 1969, there were 10 women in the House and one woman in the Senate. The 113th Congress has a record breaking 102 women. This Senate has 20 women, 40% of the body. Only 19% of the House is female.
Politics is a tough road. I admire the women in Congress who have taken it. They’re the ones getting things done….introducing bipartisan legislation, forging compromises, passing more legislation in the Senate than their male colleagues. They’ve moving more bills out of committee and having them enacted. However, they still struggle to achieve top positions within Congress. There’s that pervasive glass ceiling.
One day that will change. I hope I’m around to see it!
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Free
About fifteen years ago, I was in fairly decent shape for someone who’s had multiple knee surgeries…the first one being when I was 15. Having a ‘bad’ knee eliminated several activities for me, including running, snow skiing, mountain climbing, jumping out of planes, Most of these I had no interest in anyway.
But, I signed on for the Jane Fonda tapes, low impact aerobic classes at the gym, strength training, a little tae bo. Eventually, I found my thing….Jazzercise. I loved it….aerobics with some dance moves. Perfect. I jazzercised three or four times weekly. The other days I speed walked around the lakes in Columbia or jumped into a pool for water aerobics.
Until I experienced a chronic pain in my right groin. I must’ve pulled a muscle during one of my workouts so I laid low for awhile. Not only did it not go away but I started limping and measuring every step I took. I was in ridiculous pain. Eventually, I went to my orthopedic who showed my bone on bone x-ray results….osteoarthritis was my diagnosis. Hip replacement was the answer, he said.
Oh, no….not me. I am not having surgery. I will do anything to avoid that. For two years, I tried weekly acupuncture. For someone who has always abhorred needles, this was a huge step. Surprisingly, I found it quite therapeutic, if not exactly healing. Mentally and emotionally, it worked. Physically, the relief from my hip pain lasted about ten minutes.
Water aerobics had the same effect or lack thereof. I went to a deep tissue massage therapist for months. Now that was amazing. I felt like a rag doll after every session, but I still limped out of there.
It was so obvious something was truly awry as my rib cage was starting to protrude and I could barely sleep from the pain. How could I possibly manage a school when I could barely walk down the hallway? Just not cool. After two years, i signed on for that major surgery.
Afterwards, the doctor declared my hip was “mangled.” No idea why or how….no injury other than the knee. Pure weirdness. But the surgery was over, the new hip was in place, the morphine pump was hooked up to me and I was beyond thrilled. A new beginning. I was up walking the same day. Give me that physical therapy. I will do whatever it takes to get back in shape. And, so I did and within a month I was walking without a cane and was totally pain free.
Most of us have been in some serious, chronic pain at some time in our lives, unless you’re my 89 year old mother who claims she has never had an ache in her life. Really, Mom?
Those pain management specialists must make a killing. Who wants to be in pain??? I look at pictures of myself prior to surgery and there is definitely a strained look on my face that disappeared with the pain.
I was on top of the world for about five years then pain in my feet took over. I’d never been to a podiatrist in my life. Eventually, I succumbed to foot surgery….again, to great results.
Then, not too long ago my left hip started. No surprise to my orthopedic. He predicted it fourteen years ago. Ahhhh, the joys of osteoarthritis. Of course, I tried to walk it off, popped ibuprofen regularly, slept on my right side instead of the left. To no avail. Went under the knife again.
Not the same result, unfortunately. Yes, I did the exercises, a physical therapist worked with me at home in Maryland. I went to another one in Florida. Still in pain. Eliminating the cane was not so easy. Three months after the surgery, I was barely walking five minutes outdoors without a cane. At my bridge game, this guy tells me his wife was walking without a cane two weeks later. Bridge players are not known for their social skills. I wanted to slug him.
But I kept trudging along….always hearing that familiar refrain from my therapists….MOVE. Just keep moving. So, I did and one day, I woke up and I didn’t feel any pain when my feet hit the floor. Woohoo!!! It worked.
No more ibuprofen, no more pain pills. I am pain free and working out again like a maniac. I am drug free….well, unless you count the garcinia cambogia that Dr. Oz calls the Holy Grail of Weight Loss. But, that’s another story.
But, I signed on for the Jane Fonda tapes, low impact aerobic classes at the gym, strength training, a little tae bo. Eventually, I found my thing….Jazzercise. I loved it….aerobics with some dance moves. Perfect. I jazzercised three or four times weekly. The other days I speed walked around the lakes in Columbia or jumped into a pool for water aerobics.
Until I experienced a chronic pain in my right groin. I must’ve pulled a muscle during one of my workouts so I laid low for awhile. Not only did it not go away but I started limping and measuring every step I took. I was in ridiculous pain. Eventually, I went to my orthopedic who showed my bone on bone x-ray results….osteoarthritis was my diagnosis. Hip replacement was the answer, he said.
Oh, no….not me. I am not having surgery. I will do anything to avoid that. For two years, I tried weekly acupuncture. For someone who has always abhorred needles, this was a huge step. Surprisingly, I found it quite therapeutic, if not exactly healing. Mentally and emotionally, it worked. Physically, the relief from my hip pain lasted about ten minutes.
Water aerobics had the same effect or lack thereof. I went to a deep tissue massage therapist for months. Now that was amazing. I felt like a rag doll after every session, but I still limped out of there.
It was so obvious something was truly awry as my rib cage was starting to protrude and I could barely sleep from the pain. How could I possibly manage a school when I could barely walk down the hallway? Just not cool. After two years, i signed on for that major surgery.
Afterwards, the doctor declared my hip was “mangled.” No idea why or how….no injury other than the knee. Pure weirdness. But the surgery was over, the new hip was in place, the morphine pump was hooked up to me and I was beyond thrilled. A new beginning. I was up walking the same day. Give me that physical therapy. I will do whatever it takes to get back in shape. And, so I did and within a month I was walking without a cane and was totally pain free.
Most of us have been in some serious, chronic pain at some time in our lives, unless you’re my 89 year old mother who claims she has never had an ache in her life. Really, Mom?
Those pain management specialists must make a killing. Who wants to be in pain??? I look at pictures of myself prior to surgery and there is definitely a strained look on my face that disappeared with the pain.
I was on top of the world for about five years then pain in my feet took over. I’d never been to a podiatrist in my life. Eventually, I succumbed to foot surgery….again, to great results.
Then, not too long ago my left hip started. No surprise to my orthopedic. He predicted it fourteen years ago. Ahhhh, the joys of osteoarthritis. Of course, I tried to walk it off, popped ibuprofen regularly, slept on my right side instead of the left. To no avail. Went under the knife again.
Not the same result, unfortunately. Yes, I did the exercises, a physical therapist worked with me at home in Maryland. I went to another one in Florida. Still in pain. Eliminating the cane was not so easy. Three months after the surgery, I was barely walking five minutes outdoors without a cane. At my bridge game, this guy tells me his wife was walking without a cane two weeks later. Bridge players are not known for their social skills. I wanted to slug him.
But I kept trudging along….always hearing that familiar refrain from my therapists….MOVE. Just keep moving. So, I did and one day, I woke up and I didn’t feel any pain when my feet hit the floor. Woohoo!!! It worked.
No more ibuprofen, no more pain pills. I am pain free and working out again like a maniac. I am drug free….well, unless you count the garcinia cambogia that Dr. Oz calls the Holy Grail of Weight Loss. But, that’s another story.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Love Hate Relationship
One of my earliest memories is working in my grandmother’s gardens. During the Depression, she and my grandfather raised chickens, selling eggs for extra income and started a small nursery complete with an orchid greenhouse. Thanks to her I had hands down the most beautiful corsages complementing my homecoming and prom dresses.
Every Saturday, my sister, brother and I would work weeding, pruning and planting for a quarter. My young cousins were paid a nickel to stay out of the way. I didn’t look forward to those Saturdays but I adored my grandmother, so I didn’t complain. What I failed to realize was that I was getting one helluva gardening lesson. Even more, I learned to appreciate the beauty of all things flora.
As I got older, I knew the names of all the subtropical plants we raised in Florida and my father, who was from Minnesota, grew orange, lime, grapefruit, banana and lychee nut trees in our yard. Fresh squeezed juice was on the morning menu. I chuckle when I see ‘pulp free’ juice in the grocery store….WHY??? That was the best part!
After I graduated from Florida State, I lost my mind and moved to New England on a whim. My husband at the time had landed in New Haven, Connecticut when he’d gone AWOL and want to return. Unfortunately, the growing season was about 10 minutes long. The first snow was in mid-October and I didn’t see the ground until May. I hated it, but having great friends helped alleviate my self-diagnosed seasonal affective disorder.
When those hyacinths and forsythia started blooming, I went manic. I learned all about organic gardening before it was even called organic gardening. Compost and manure were my secret ingredients to producing the most delicious tomatoes I’ve ever eaten. I ate them right off the vine along with cucumbers, lettuce and carrots. I fell in love with lilac bushes….planted one at every place I lived. I went nuts for indoor plants and macrame hangings. Ahhh….those were the days.
Gardening is work. When I was young and had the strength of an ox, I didn’t mind it so much. Now, it’s different. I do not have that body any longer. I’ve been blessed with osteoarthritis for over 20 years now. To do yard work requires ibuprofen and cortisone shots.
Buff Honey and I do not agree on yard work. In fact, i’ve never had a partner who prized beautiful lawns and gardens, especially, if it meant serious labor. To BH, all living things should be left to their own devices. if the weeds are choking the lawn, not to worry….the weeds are green. What more do you need? if the fire ants are crawling up my arms and legs and I’m screaming in agony as I jump in the pool, not to worry….they’re one of God’s creatures, too. As you can see, we have different philosophies. No judgment, just different.
So now, we’re back in Florida and our two year old lawn is choked with weeds after hiring someone to do the weed and feed over the summer. The grass and weeds have taken over the flower beds and shrubs, There is nothing to do except get down on my hands and knees and weed it myself or pay someone.
I admit it, I am a perfectionist when it comes to gardening. I will do it myself. Just one problem. I have to undergo weeks of physical rehab after my hip replacement before I can touch the yard.
So, for two months, I don’t even look at the garden. Now, however, my time has come.
Good God, where to start?! There’s weeding, pruning, transplanting, feeding, watering. We need to do edging. It’s a never ending job but I have to start somewhere. So, for the past four weeks, I’ve worked about two hours a day, setting mini-goals. BH does the digging, the edging installation and the disposal of the weeds and pruning.
I do the weeding. I hate it. It requires a shovel, hoe, trowel, weeder, and every bit of strength I can muster. I dug up two huge mounds of fire ants who wasted no time climbing up the inside of my jeans. I have bites all over my arms and legs. The root structures of these weeds were as extensive as the suburbs of Washington, DC. BH filled an industrial sized garbage can with them!
And now, it’s done. I finished yesterday at 11:30 a.m. I am in celebration mode.
Of course, there’s more to do….new mulching, lay down more edging, spray the lawn with Weed-B-Gone. But, today, it’s raining, so I’m going to do my very favorite gardening chore—stop by the nursery and pick up a few hibiscus, schefflera, and lantana plants.
I absolutely hate the work. I totally love the results!
Every Saturday, my sister, brother and I would work weeding, pruning and planting for a quarter. My young cousins were paid a nickel to stay out of the way. I didn’t look forward to those Saturdays but I adored my grandmother, so I didn’t complain. What I failed to realize was that I was getting one helluva gardening lesson. Even more, I learned to appreciate the beauty of all things flora.
As I got older, I knew the names of all the subtropical plants we raised in Florida and my father, who was from Minnesota, grew orange, lime, grapefruit, banana and lychee nut trees in our yard. Fresh squeezed juice was on the morning menu. I chuckle when I see ‘pulp free’ juice in the grocery store….WHY??? That was the best part!
After I graduated from Florida State, I lost my mind and moved to New England on a whim. My husband at the time had landed in New Haven, Connecticut when he’d gone AWOL and want to return. Unfortunately, the growing season was about 10 minutes long. The first snow was in mid-October and I didn’t see the ground until May. I hated it, but having great friends helped alleviate my self-diagnosed seasonal affective disorder.
When those hyacinths and forsythia started blooming, I went manic. I learned all about organic gardening before it was even called organic gardening. Compost and manure were my secret ingredients to producing the most delicious tomatoes I’ve ever eaten. I ate them right off the vine along with cucumbers, lettuce and carrots. I fell in love with lilac bushes….planted one at every place I lived. I went nuts for indoor plants and macrame hangings. Ahhh….those were the days.
Gardening is work. When I was young and had the strength of an ox, I didn’t mind it so much. Now, it’s different. I do not have that body any longer. I’ve been blessed with osteoarthritis for over 20 years now. To do yard work requires ibuprofen and cortisone shots.
Buff Honey and I do not agree on yard work. In fact, i’ve never had a partner who prized beautiful lawns and gardens, especially, if it meant serious labor. To BH, all living things should be left to their own devices. if the weeds are choking the lawn, not to worry….the weeds are green. What more do you need? if the fire ants are crawling up my arms and legs and I’m screaming in agony as I jump in the pool, not to worry….they’re one of God’s creatures, too. As you can see, we have different philosophies. No judgment, just different.
So now, we’re back in Florida and our two year old lawn is choked with weeds after hiring someone to do the weed and feed over the summer. The grass and weeds have taken over the flower beds and shrubs, There is nothing to do except get down on my hands and knees and weed it myself or pay someone.
I admit it, I am a perfectionist when it comes to gardening. I will do it myself. Just one problem. I have to undergo weeks of physical rehab after my hip replacement before I can touch the yard.
So, for two months, I don’t even look at the garden. Now, however, my time has come.
Good God, where to start?! There’s weeding, pruning, transplanting, feeding, watering. We need to do edging. It’s a never ending job but I have to start somewhere. So, for the past four weeks, I’ve worked about two hours a day, setting mini-goals. BH does the digging, the edging installation and the disposal of the weeds and pruning.
I do the weeding. I hate it. It requires a shovel, hoe, trowel, weeder, and every bit of strength I can muster. I dug up two huge mounds of fire ants who wasted no time climbing up the inside of my jeans. I have bites all over my arms and legs. The root structures of these weeds were as extensive as the suburbs of Washington, DC. BH filled an industrial sized garbage can with them!
And now, it’s done. I finished yesterday at 11:30 a.m. I am in celebration mode.
Of course, there’s more to do….new mulching, lay down more edging, spray the lawn with Weed-B-Gone. But, today, it’s raining, so I’m going to do my very favorite gardening chore—stop by the nursery and pick up a few hibiscus, schefflera, and lantana plants.
I absolutely hate the work. I totally love the results!
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