Live

 

I think women in my generation especially used to get caught up in the idea of who we were.

Maybe because we were sort of the first generation of television children. Kids who knew what day and time it was by which program they were watching was on the air.

Instead of relying on the fairy tales and folk tales from books, we saw soap operas and westerns. Lots of westerns! The women often standing in the background with their hands over their mouths in horror as the men battled it out with their fists. Heaven forbid one of those women pick up a chair and lob the bad guy over the head. They were bystanders. Watchers. People to be protected and honored. Judged on their beauty and money and clothing, but not much else.

So when these women grew up they seemed to either follow suit and put themselves in that make believe role of being pampered and protected, or they did an about face and became rude and crude in order to make their point. Both of course were extremes and neither one was enough for a whole life.

I see women now who spent their youth slaving day and night thinking that was the noble and only way to live. And I see women who are aging primadonnas trying to recapture a youth they should have outgrown fifty years ago. They seem confused and sometimes almost frantic as they realize something is missing, but they just don't know what.

Then there are the women, I was going to say lucky, but I don't think they really were lucky, I think they were realistic, who stopped trying to live somebody else's life, or emulate an idea that only existed on film. They got out there and did things! They were the ones who found fulfillment in jobs, art, sports, mothering, whatever seemed important to them. 

They made mistakes. All human beings do, but they lived and they were willing, wanting and able to accept responsibility for who they were and what they did.

I admire these women.