Ladies, Together

When I was deciding on a New Year’s resolution for 2019, a girlfriend told me that the ‘popular’ thing this year was to come up with a one-word mantra. I went through a long list of possibilities (optimism, resilience, forgiveness) before settling on “patience”.

The idea was to use “patience” (my ‘positive mantra’) to replace my stand-by negative ones:

1. Long exaggerated sigh
2. “It’s not getting easier”
3. “I need more help”

At the risk of disturbing your calm, contented soul, I’ll describe each of these briefly for you.

I employ the sigh whenever snags occur. If we get stuck behind a bulldozer on the way to daycare, if my child refuses to get into the car seat or if I’m in a rush and can’t find something (homework, keys, etc.) I emit a long, exaggerated sigh.

I didn’t realize it was a mantra until my daughter said, “why do you always do that?” Oops.

I don’t say “it’s not getting easier” out loud. I say this to myself while on exercise equipment, when house and/or car problems arise and, generally, on Sunday nights. In the right mood, it serves as a kind of comic relief but…I think we can agree that “patience” works better.

Out of frustration, I used to say “I need more help” to myself at home or at the office. I googled it once and read an article that lifted my spirits. I can’t remember the whole of it, but it said “yes, you probably do.” It explained that throughout most of history parents didn’t live alone, working and raising children on their own and that it’s not easy.

Eventually, I just started saying that phrase out loud. Using some variations, lo and behold, my children, my husband and my manager have begun to understand when tasks aren’t being doled out equitably. This is all to say that I thought of that article again when I looked at the following pictures of my family.

Here are some women who, though hindered in some ways, likely had each other nearby and ‘on call’. I envy them that. Assuming this picture was taken in 1907 (shortly after Clara S. Dunning’s birth), here are everyone’s ages:

• Aunt Kate – 37
• Eleanor – 33
• Evelyn – 10
• Clara Rhodes – 9

These women may have had inner monologues like me but it wasn’t described that way at the time. The idea of an inner consciousness and how that could be “sublimated” was revolutionary then. In fact, not until two years later, in 1910, would Sigmund Freud lecture in the USA about this new study called “psychoanalysis”.

I look at the faces of my female relatives here and wish I could know what ran through their heads. Clara doesn’t look at the camera, was she shy? Evelyn doesn’t use the parasol, did she think it silly? Is it me or does Eleanor carry the pleased look of a new mother?

These are formal pictures, taken at a studio, so someone (Kate?) must have suggested the outing. “Come on, Eleanor! Let’s get a picture of you and the new baby!” They must have traveled by carriage together. They must have taken the pictures home, admired them and shown them around to aunts, uncles and cousins.

I may not have the luxury of living with my relatives today but I relish the times we get together. One of the most recent reunions took place at my baby shower. I hadn’t yet conceived (!) of what I would write about for this post when I decided to dig around for a poem I had written from that occasion.

Reading it over (speaking of Freud and the subconscious), I saw that it would fit well with this post. The poem is overly sentimental but it’s the closest I’ve managed to get to the idea of how crucial women are – and always have been – to helping each other move life along.

Enjoy and, if you made one, please tell me how your New Year’s Resolutions are going. It’s mid-year review time, after all. For patience, I’ll be generous and rate myself “Partially Achieved”. As my sister put it, it’s one of those “carry-over” goals.

For My Daughter

You haven’t met these ladies yet,  
You haven’t seen their faces,
You don’t yet know how they’ve helped me grow
Through diapers and tantrums and braces.

Through quiz and test, through game and match
They cheered me, “fight, fight, fight”,  
Through darkest day of my roughest patch
They held me safe and tight.

In buses, in tents, on beaches and yards, 
At worn-out diner booths,  
They taught me to sing, to cook and play cards; 
They shared with me secrets and truths. 

You’re tucked away in me today 
As I was tucked away too,  
As women at a shower awaited the hour 
of birth, to help me through.

I didn’t know then, I couldn’t have guessed 
What strength surrounded me 
But daughter, we have both been blessed 
For they’ve made me the mother I soon will be.