Upon reading The Only Woman in the Room

 Book Club here at McCrite read and discussed two similar books:  Fast Girls about the 1936 Women's Olympic Track team and The Only Woman in the Room about Hedy Lamarr, movie star and inventor.  The theme was similar---women struggling to break through that "glass ceiling" allowing them to be successful in a male dominated world.

The discussion here was a little like a therapy session---many of us giving examples of hitting that "glass ceiling" and with some of us breaking it.  The most disturbing story was from Marsha who told us she was a twin.He was always put ahead of her:  she got used to taking a back seat.  Marsha celebrated her 90th birthday that same week with a party.  Her daughter filled us in on more details.  When the twins were born, they only weighted about 5 lbs together.  Marsha was literally pushed aside with all care and attention going to her brother to ensure his survival----not hers.

Anita told of several generations of men in her family who encouraged her, her grandmother and her daughter to compete in a "men's world".  Her daughter as a child said she wanted to go to Harvard Law School like her father, and they never discouraged her despite Harvard not allowing women to attend school there.  By the time her daughter was old enough to apply, they were accepting females students.

My story was somewhere in between Marsha's and Anita's.  First I wanted to be a farmer, but my grandmother said, "how about a farmer's wife?"  Then in high school "career day", I signed up to learn about the FBI, walked in the room and was told, "there are no females in the FBI."  I felt belittled, embarassed and angry.  It wasn't about the FBI, but being told I couldn't do something.  So, instead I chipped away at that glass ceiling trying to prove I could compete equally.  By my senior year, I was president of International Club, Museum Club and Church Youth Group.  I tied my friend Randy for the number of organizations we were president of and that felt good.

I started college wanting to be a pastor.  I majored in English, German and minored in history to prepare myself for seminary.  I knew women went to seminary---one of our youth directors was Judith Craig, a student at Eden Seminary.  What I didn't know was, women could go to seminary, take classes, but they were "ordained" as Christian Educators and not pastors.  I'd led the youth group at church, been on the Board, preached sermons, taught Bible School but that wasn't enough because I was a female.  So, I shut that door and decided to be a public school English/German teacher. 

I've always been pretty good at making lemonade when life handed me lemons.   I couldn't go to seminary, but how about trying out for that exchange program my college had with Memmingen, Germany. In the past, the candidates had only been male college graduates but I was a female undergraduate.  The exchange student sent that year had been a brilliant student of German, but socially he had failed miserably in Germany. They were looking for someone more social and out-going---not someone who sat in his room, studied and read.  Would I interact with my students? Would I be willing to speak before groups of adults? Would I try to make my lessons interesting for the students?  Yes, yes, yes. If I was an undergraduate, then I couldn't go to the University in Munich and I couldn't have a Fulbright Scholarship as the previous recipients had.  I was OK with all of that.  So, off I went:  the first female and the first undergraduate exchange student to Memmingen. Chipping away at that glass ceiling.

Later I married, had three lovely daughters but others were also chipping away at the glass ceiling, too.  Doors and careers were opening up.  Women could be lawyers, Presbyterian pastors, business women not just teachers, nurses, stewardesses and secretaries.  I'd been very active at church, chaired a pastor search committee, been Sunday School Superintendent, written curriculum, given workshops, but then I was asked to be an elder on Session.  I loved teaching not ruling.  Yes, I'd had leadership positions but it was no longer something I craved.  I looked at my three daughters, stood up straight and became an elder so they could see women could do this.  After a year on session, I was elected Clerk of Session (the lay leader), a job I really did not want, but felt like I needed to take on.  I was the first female Clerk of Session at St. Mark Presbyterian.  Others had been asked and turned it down, but I didn't think I would be a very good role model for my daughters if I turned my back on being the lay leader of our church.   Chipping away.

After serving as an elder on Session, my daughters were getting older so I needed to start thinking about going back to work but felt like I needed to go back to college to brush up my skills.  A mom that I volunteered with at Henry School was talking about going to Eden Seminary.  I perked up thinking maybe I could be that pastor after all.  I prayed, I thought, I made lists of pros and cons and decided to keep that door shut.  My family and my daughters meant a lot to me.  If I became a pastor, they would suffer----the timing was not right.  I wanted us to continue worshipping as a family and not have them go to St. Mark (where their friends were) while I pastored another church.  I knew I could do it, but did I really want to do that to my family?

There comes a time when focused goals become less important than the big picture.  I did go back to school to brush up on my skills and got a master's in reading.  I started subbing in the schools where my daughters attended which was a pretty easy transition (basically I was being paid to do things I'd been volunteering to do before). The extra money helped pay for my tuition.  I eventually was hired as a part-time teacher, part-time aide in reading and English as Second Language:  the transitions were smooth with hardly a ripple in our family time. By the time I was finished with graduate school, Rebecca was off to college and I applied for full-time teaching positions:  German, Reading, English as Second Language.  I don't regret any of my decisions:  I'd helped other women, helped my family and was able to grow.

Recently, I was cleaning out some files and found my passport from 1972.  Remember, I'd been to Germany for a year on a passport issued in 1967.  But this 1972 passport really made me sit back and take a deep breath.  I hadn't fully realized how far we've come until I saw it.  Grandpa has his full name, birthdate, birthplace, a description of how he looked and I had "Jaclyn"  that's all--not even my full name.  Anyone seeing that passport would have thought, I had been nothing more than a spouse tagging along like a dutiful little woman. I'd planned the trip (Grandpa had never been to Europe), I spoke the language and had to do all of the speaking, translating, purchasing.  I had been in charge of the entire trip but my passport said I was "Jaclyn".

THAT is the reason for this message to my granddaughters----Marsha, Anita, thousands of women and I have worked very hard to give you your life, your choices, your freedom.  PLEASE, do not forget that glass ceiling was chipped away by some very determined women.  Don't forget.

The fight is not over---the Glass Ceiling still exists.  Caitlin Clark, basketball phenom.  She is expected to earn $76,000 as #1 female rookie in professional basketball compared to her male counterpart who will earn between 7 and 11 million dollars.  The NCAA women's tournament had more viewers than the men's tournament and yet, the women's programs got far less money. (click here)

Lessons:  Don't be afraid to stretch yourself but also don't be afraid to step back and say, "this is not the right time, the right place for me right now." 

Pray for help and guidance.  Listen for answers.

Encourage other women---don't tear them down.  Even if you disagree with them and don't like them. If they are working to make a better world for you, your children and grandchildren, thank them. 

Upon reading Tom Lake

 I picked up the novel Tom Lake by Anne Patchet and was hooked immediately.  It started out with a young high school student auditioning for Our Town but she's telling the story to her three daughters now in their 20s.  And this is after reading My Grandmother Says She's Sorry by Frederick Backman with a Grandmother sending her granddaughter messages to deliver after her death to people who will fill in Grandmother's back story.  And this after Libby sending me a text message wanting to know more about my romantic past.

So, now I'm up at 3:30 AM can't sleep because I can't turn my brain off.  Maybe now that Libby is 17 and Anna 14, NOW is the time to tell some stories.  But where to begin.  Then I realized I'd begun with a post about being 14-15 years old and meeting my future husband. (click here)

So to continue that story. . . . .I was not at all interested in Dave Morgan.  He was too old (18),  too handsome and "stuck up".  My friend Hilda was aflutter after meeting him and I just looked at her and said, "His older brother is more my type---not as handsome, much friendlier and he has warm eyes."  

I was simply not interested in dating or having a boy friend---I really didn't see  much point in it.  I was interested in having fun in larger groups like our church youth fellowship, flirting but backing away---staying focused on being "successful" in school by being in clubs, being recognized as a leader, getting in National Honor Society.  I was going to go to college ( being the first female in my family) and had no interest in "relationships" other than friendship in a more brotherly kind of way.

Meanwhile, my friendships in high school began to shift.  My "girlfriends" were starting to be more interested in boys than I was. And they were getting very "catty" putting other girls down.  I hated that. I was interested in being part of the crowd and going to all of the dances---with or without a date.  Dancing was the point of  a "Dance", right?  I gradually found myself pulling away from my girlfriends and actually aligning myself with many of my "boy" friends or "brothers" which is how I thought of them. They were supportive, intelligent, funny and I was happier being with them than the anxiety of my "girl friends"

By our Senior year, my "brothers" were beginning to be interested in a group of girls a year younger than we were.  I knew several of them from church and dance club, so I tagged along to the parties.  As a group we called ourselves the "yo-yos" which described us perfectly---the ups and downs of adolescence.  (Uncle Harry Provost was part of this group before he and Aunt Jane met) I became such a part of the group, they somehow forgot I was a year older and invited me to their 50th reunion where I had a great time catching up with them.  In retrospect I wonder if I should have been in their grade.  

I started Kindergarten in January after I turned 5 in November.  St. Louis Public Schools had two classes a year for graduation, also.   The problem was moving to St. Louis County where they had only Fall enrollment.  What to do with those of us who only finished half of third grade---should we repeat it or push ahead.  Many of us were pushed ahead so I graduated from high school at 17 (not turning 18 until November of my freshman year of college).  So, although I was smart enough to not "miss" that half of third grade, I might now have been mature enough.  

There were several advantages to being pushed ahead in school.  One was I was not a "baby boomer"---that huge group of babies born after the war.  The enormous population bubble caused problems with the schools who didn't have room for all of the children.  So, I had a less stressful school situation being in a smaller class.  The second advantage was I had "flexibility" which I later used in college to "take a year off" college to live in Germany.  But, as a teenager, I probably would have been happier with the group of friends a year younger.

My Friend Hilda

It was after Sunrise Service and we were all standing on the church parking lot/cemetary at Bellefontaine Methodist Church. We introduced ourselves and the older one Harry, smiled, made eye contact but the middle brother looked right through us. . . . That didn't stop Hilda from fluttering her eyelashes and swooning after the meeting. . . . I was not impressed, Dave was very handsome but I did not appreciate his attitude. That first meeting might have tainted my feelings about Dave Morgan when I met him the second, third, fourth and fifth times: very handsome but "stuck up". I'm sure Hilda never thought I'd actually marry Dave 11 years later.

We lost touch in college, but Hilda did know we married. I always felt a little guilty since she had "dibs" on him in 1960. On April 8, 2024, Hilda has been gone for 30 years. I still miss and remember her. RIP

 Have you ever had a friend who would talk you into doing things you would have never done on your own. On Easter Sunday, 64 years ago, my good friend Hilda dared me to go up to that Morgan family and introduce ourselves to those handsome older brothers of our friend Tom. We were 14-15 years old, not dating but still having "crushes" on guys. Those handsome older brothers were 18-21 definitely out of our "range". The middle one, Dave, was Senior class President at Hilda's school where she was in 9th grade which may be why she was so fascinated by him and I wasn't (I went to a different school).

Trash to treasure

 

Our trash room is nothing to write home about. . . .or is it?  

Before Christmas I had seen photos of some beautiful light displays using crystal and glass candle holders to display vintage Christmas ornaments.  I loved the look but I'd sold all of my vintage ornaments last year and left all of my candles holders behind when we moved because we weren't allowed to have candles. . . .I regretted that decision seeing that beautiful display and discovering battery operated candles.

One day I walked into the trash room where a box was sitting on the floor that said, "FREE".  So I decided to look through the box and I saw these lovely Mikasa crystal candle holders (2).  The tea lights were a little big to set underneath so I set them on top with a glass Christmas tree.  I have thought a lot about how fortunate I was to find that.

Now, it is January---so cold and dry.  I bought a humidifier on Amazon but it couldn't keep up.  It was small and I was regretting that I'd left my big humidifier behind.  I put a kettle of water on the stove which helped with humidity but I was afraid I'd forget about it and burn my pot or start a fire.  Two days ago, I walked into the trash room and saw two boxes with this sign.   

I really only needed one so I left one behind.  It has worked out great in our living area---holding 6 liters of water.

Another thing I miss was all of my empty recycled containers.  I had glass jars and plastic tubs that food had been in which I used for storing things like bird seed.  But, I left them all behind because bird feeders were another banned object in our apartment building. When winter came and birds were huddled together on my patio which is L shaped and protected, I started wishing I had some bird seed.  I had suspected one of my upstairs neighbors was feeding the birds.  After a windy night, remnants of a ball of bird food  was scattered on the grass and on our patio. .. .

We enjoyed seeing the birds so much, I decided to be a rebel and buy some bird seed---waste free---so when the bird ate it, they wouldn't be leaving behind hulls.  Now, I began to wish I had some of those recycled tubs I used to store the seed in.  Look what I found in the trash room last night.

Now I do have some standards---I refuse to root through the trash bins.  But if an item is just sitting, there and I need it. .. . .I'm beginning to think there's something magical and mysterious about that trash room.  I'm also enough of a "Monkey's Paw" fan that I have to be careful what I wish for. . .

Bending the Illusion

 

There have many times the past few years when I wished I had nurse's training.  I have all too frequently told Dave, "Maybe you'll marry a nurse in your next life, but you are stuck with a teacher in this one."    

Even as a child, I only wanted to play school, be a teacher.  Other children wanted to play "house", "army", "nurse" but I only liked "school" and "office" which involved a lot record keeping (done with old mail and bills I found in other people's trash to my mother's horror)  I can remember going to my cousin, Sue's house.  She was overjoyed at getting a nurse's kit for Christmas.  So, I had to be a patient while she  nursed me back to health.  The nurse's kit was very cute---all of the tools she needed for proper nursing.  But, it bored and frustrated me not to be able to play school or office. They say look to how children play to see where their interests are.  Clearly, I was happy becoming a teacher and record keeper while Susan became a nurse.

Back in the 70's when professional doors were opening for women that had been closed before, I considered law school and seminary.  But, the bottom line was that I enjoyed teaching.  So, I returned to graduate schools studying "English as Second Language" and "Elementary Reading".  I wasn't sure which one so I began both studies at SEMO and UMSL (despite having a half-finished Master's in English from SIU).  Ultimately my job focused me  on secondary reading (middle school and high school) with an emphasis in "Second Language Learning" at UMSL.

I

I liked collecting data, analyzing it and deciding on a strategy to improve results.  I liked analyzing what worked and what didn't work after trying each strategy. Brain research and Sociological research were important in the field of secondary reading with language learning.  I had no idea in the 1980s how much this study would help me in my personal life: in 2001 my husband  had a traumatic brain injury and stroke (in ICU for 6 weeks) affecting his speech, balance and frontal cortex "filters". It was time to put all of my brain research to work and help him adapt to his new and "foreign" environment.

Parker Palmer's On the Brink of Everything discusses the "authentic self".  I've reflected on this.  I believe "teacher" is my authentic self.  I've always known this.  So, to be 70 years old and having to become a nurse goes against my grain. I needed some of those tools in Susan's nurse's kit.   So, how have I managed to find happiness in being a caregiver for my husband? I don't see myself as a nurse but as a teacher.  Here's where I disagree with  Parker Palmer.  He feels it's important to break through illusion to find reality--one's true self.  But, what if the illusion is what feels right and brings us contentment and peace? I believe my contentment comes from "bending the illusion".

My whole attitude about caregiving turned around when I realized being a caregiver is as much being a teacher as it is a nurse. Like a good reading teacher, I identify problems, research solutions and try various strategies to achieve the goals I have.  I keep track of behavior shifts, what works (as well as what doesn't work).  

My current goals are to get Dave to use his hands more (dexterity), sit in the wheelchair more (core strength), make him feel like he's a contributing member of our family (mental/emotional health), interact socially with others (social skills), exercise his brain (cognitive skills), improve his lung capacity, and reduce anger--all while protecting my back, knees and shoulders. One activity that achieves many of these goals is sorting and matching his socks. Another is having him navigate through the apartment in the wheel chair (rather than using a motorized wheel chair or me pushing him).

There are goals for which I need professionals. We saw a pulmonologist who put him on a nebulizer when my "tools" weren't enough. Todd comes several times a week to take him on walks outside.  Emily (a nurse) comes once a week to help him shower. Erin comes several times a week to help him with his physical therapy exercises.  Each one helps with socialization and reducing anger in addition to their obvious jobs.

I believe being a caregiver is as much about being a teacher as being a nurse.  Both careers take care of others hoping the student/patient will improve with care.  Both involve data, research, analysis, trials and testing of theories.  This is where I find peace. If you think being a caregiver is being a nurse, do NOT burst my illusion that I am using my teacher skills.  I'd rather live in my slightly bent illusion than the frustrating, unqualified reality with no nurse's kit around.