I also love people watching and I find that old women and little girls are the most honest. I like to see where I was and where I might be someday. It keeps me in proper perspective in more ways than one. Special warm fuzzy feelings are felt when I find someone watching me back! I love little girl giggles and old ladies who make eye contact and sometimes stop to chat.
Yesterday while visiting a friend I spotted a beautiful old photograph of a handsome young uniformed man on top of her refrigerator. "Is that your husband?" I asked her.
She lit up. "Yes, it is!"
"He was a very handsome young man!" I commented, smiling.
She giggled, actually giggled! "Thank you! I'll have to tell him."
My heart melted. She has been a widow quite a few years now, and Alzheimer's has ravaged her mind, but inside she's still very much a woman!
What is the spark that ignites that light...that femininity? By what wick is it extinguished? How can I maintain the delightful honesty of femininity in this modern day of feminism? What is feminism anyway and why is it an issue?
I know some of the history of the women's rights movement. Some of the changes were good and warranted. Others, I'm not so sure about.
I admire Rosie the Riveter. There's something sassy about her red polka dotted scarf and the flex of her muscle, but I rather think she has sucker punched Uncle Sam when he wasn't looking. I might add that she didn't fight fair because she was the smaller weaker one, but hey, most of us girls have more self respect than that. Or do we?
Rosie stood up when the men were off fighting for our safety. She courageously threw herself wholeheartedly behind her man, supporting the home front, taking responsibility, raising her family, earning the daily bread and supporting the war effort. She simply did not lay down the hammer when her man got home. She went on swinging and some of those blows fell pretty hard where they shouldn't have.
What was Rosie afraid of? Perhaps fathers, brothers and men walked all over her too long. Perhaps she was neglected too long prior to the war and now that she had his attention she didn't want him to forget so she wielded that muscle with a bit of clout. What if he neglected to listen to her wisdom? Women are very intuitive, especially when it comes to relationships. Rosie may have had an edge that she intended to keep.
Maybe Sam was so busy pounding the bad guys that he brought his war home with him. Perhaps he forgot his tenderness in dealing with his fellow men and women? Perhaps he hit Rosie? Considering that men have more muscle mass than women, and they are generally bigger and broader, that wouldn't have been fair or kind and Rosie bared her muscle.
Neglect and abuse are definitely what could bring the worst out in Rosie. But I can't stand to see her tattooed and sweating, booted and holding up the stop signs on the road crew, spitting and cursing with the men and holding her own at the bar downtown. Neither can I stomach her bitter, edgy, daring and tough in her heels and sexy power suit. How far have you fallen, Rosie? Your cry to be recognized has gotten you ignored. You're either "one of the guys" or you're trash to be used and discarded by men. One night stands or year long flings cheapen you regardless of the brief case and power suit. Hardness doesn't suit you, Rosie. Get back your self respect.
When a woman walks down the street, hats should come off, doors should be opened for her. She should be respected. Love isn't the answer. Self respect is. I'm not talking about being respected for the growl and the bite or even the muscle. I'm talking about the spoken word.
If a woman doesn't respect herself, who will? If she whines and whimpers about her pathetic past and her wounded life and her shattered American dream, who wants to listen? We do not respect a whining man, nor should we a whining woman. Equality, my friends, is what we fought for. Flex that muscle and grow up.
Get back up and march yourself to church on Sunday. Make the dress look as respectable as you made the jeans look during the week. Respect yourself by smiling at Sam and letting him hold the door for you. Respect yourself by walking away from abuse and shallow relationships that hold you in bondage. Quit sniveling. There are good men out there and they need good women. They need you to teach their mothers, sisters and daughters how to be respectable and honorable. They need you to teach them how to be real men.
Honor is not a word reserved for soldiers only, but for Rosie. Equality, my friends, has yet to be defended when it comes to a lady's honor. Her words have been dishonored by her actions far too long. Your man might be an idiot, but he has been at one time a hero by choosing you. Now you need to choose to honor the One Who designed you to be beautiful, strong, worthy to die for, unique, brave and courageous. Live up to it, Rosie, and you'll be respected and...riveting.
Yesterday while visiting a friend I spotted a beautiful old photograph of a handsome young uniformed man on top of her refrigerator. "Is that your husband?" I asked her.
She lit up. "Yes, it is!"
"He was a very handsome young man!" I commented, smiling.
She giggled, actually giggled! "Thank you! I'll have to tell him."
My heart melted. She has been a widow quite a few years now, and Alzheimer's has ravaged her mind, but inside she's still very much a woman!
What is the spark that ignites that light...that femininity? By what wick is it extinguished? How can I maintain the delightful honesty of femininity in this modern day of feminism? What is feminism anyway and why is it an issue?
I know some of the history of the women's rights movement. Some of the changes were good and warranted. Others, I'm not so sure about.
I admire Rosie the Riveter. There's something sassy about her red polka dotted scarf and the flex of her muscle, but I rather think she has sucker punched Uncle Sam when he wasn't looking. I might add that she didn't fight fair because she was the smaller weaker one, but hey, most of us girls have more self respect than that. Or do we?
Rosie stood up when the men were off fighting for our safety. She courageously threw herself wholeheartedly behind her man, supporting the home front, taking responsibility, raising her family, earning the daily bread and supporting the war effort. She simply did not lay down the hammer when her man got home. She went on swinging and some of those blows fell pretty hard where they shouldn't have.
What was Rosie afraid of? Perhaps fathers, brothers and men walked all over her too long. Perhaps she was neglected too long prior to the war and now that she had his attention she didn't want him to forget so she wielded that muscle with a bit of clout. What if he neglected to listen to her wisdom? Women are very intuitive, especially when it comes to relationships. Rosie may have had an edge that she intended to keep.
Maybe Sam was so busy pounding the bad guys that he brought his war home with him. Perhaps he forgot his tenderness in dealing with his fellow men and women? Perhaps he hit Rosie? Considering that men have more muscle mass than women, and they are generally bigger and broader, that wouldn't have been fair or kind and Rosie bared her muscle.
Neglect and abuse are definitely what could bring the worst out in Rosie. But I can't stand to see her tattooed and sweating, booted and holding up the stop signs on the road crew, spitting and cursing with the men and holding her own at the bar downtown. Neither can I stomach her bitter, edgy, daring and tough in her heels and sexy power suit. How far have you fallen, Rosie? Your cry to be recognized has gotten you ignored. You're either "one of the guys" or you're trash to be used and discarded by men. One night stands or year long flings cheapen you regardless of the brief case and power suit. Hardness doesn't suit you, Rosie. Get back your self respect.
When a woman walks down the street, hats should come off, doors should be opened for her. She should be respected. Love isn't the answer. Self respect is. I'm not talking about being respected for the growl and the bite or even the muscle. I'm talking about the spoken word.
If a woman doesn't respect herself, who will? If she whines and whimpers about her pathetic past and her wounded life and her shattered American dream, who wants to listen? We do not respect a whining man, nor should we a whining woman. Equality, my friends, is what we fought for. Flex that muscle and grow up.
Get back up and march yourself to church on Sunday. Make the dress look as respectable as you made the jeans look during the week. Respect yourself by smiling at Sam and letting him hold the door for you. Respect yourself by walking away from abuse and shallow relationships that hold you in bondage. Quit sniveling. There are good men out there and they need good women. They need you to teach their mothers, sisters and daughters how to be respectable and honorable. They need you to teach them how to be real men.
Honor is not a word reserved for soldiers only, but for Rosie. Equality, my friends, has yet to be defended when it comes to a lady's honor. Her words have been dishonored by her actions far too long. Your man might be an idiot, but he has been at one time a hero by choosing you. Now you need to choose to honor the One Who designed you to be beautiful, strong, worthy to die for, unique, brave and courageous. Live up to it, Rosie, and you'll be respected and...riveting.
