“Bringin’ Home the Bacon” [facebook 01-26-2014]

While my heroes have always been cowboys (whether in boots and chaps or shining armor), it has not gone unnoticed that much of the “right and true” to which they aspired was epitomized by the ladies in their lives.  Noble deeds and valiant efforts were done in the name of these women and for their notice and admiration.  We (boys) were indoctrinated and initiated into the cult of chivalry…and so were the girls.  Like most things, this is both positive and negative for everyone involved.

Just considering the 50s and 60s in which I grew up is almost schizophrenic in its depiction of men and women.  It’s no wonder to me the divorce rate sky rocketed during that time.  To me, the chivalric notions have always meant mere heightened courtesy toward everyone, but especially to those who would most benefit from that courtesy and generosity.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’ve always tried to be even more of a “gentleman” to the ladies.  At the same time, I am not fooled!

June Cleaver (look it up) was no pushover who needed Ward and Wally and the Beav to take care of her.  She came from a long line of women who kicked ass, took no prisoners, and set a nice table.  Frail?  Are you kidding?  I’ve spent a good amount of time researching and teaching about Nebraska settlers as part of my career.  I’m a big Willa Cather fan.  Read about Antonia or Alexandra.  Imagine setting sail from the old civilizations in Europe, traveling across a rugged United States (check out train travel in the 1860s), and arriving on a tree-less, tall grass prairie.  Sure, lots of land available.  No one knew how to farm it.  “Homes” were cut from the sod or were simply enlarged badger holes.  You think you’re cold in your house with the furnace on this winter?  Imagine keeping warm in a hole in the ground while this wind blows through the blanket that is your door.  Fix supper.  First you have to plant the vegetables, raise the hog, butcher it, save the fat and tallow for cooking and light, gather the buffalo chips to make a fire, bring in the water from the buffalo wallow and strain the mud out of it.  Woman’s work.  June didn’t have to work quite that hard.  That’s why she wore a dress and pearls when she fried chicken.

I’ll never understand why we insist on limiting all human potential by denying a majority of the population the access they deserve to education and training and opportunity.  Not just women, either, but that’s half the population right there.  I wonder how many times has the person with the cure for cancer been denied admission to school because she’s a woman?  Or Black or Hispanic?  Is the world’s peacemaker a starving Lakota pre-schooler on the Pine Ridge?  In order to see the stars, we stand on the shoulders of our matriarchy, keeping them down as we rise up.

Throughout my life I have been privileged to know some really awesome women.  They raised me, my sons, my grandchildren.  I find them teaching and learning in classrooms, running successful businesses, creating in art studios.  They’re trying to save historic buildings and create opportunities for the underprivileged.  They’re trying to save us from ourselves.  Every time I meet Rosie the Riveter, I want to treat her to some spa time, a nice dinner and a good bottle of wine, and a night on the town.   Just to say thanks and maybe get a kiss for being a gentleman instead of an insensitive dolt.

It took me a while, but I learned that “Yes, dear” is always the best response, and due anyway.