THE MEASURE OF A MAN

John Pat Ford 1964

Another anniversary is behind me.  I celebrated the life (he would have been 71 this year) and the loss (it has been 5 years) of Pat.  It is such a bittersweet time.  His birthday so close to his passing, but so consistent with the dynamics of this family.  The matriarch, Muddy (Lucy Shontz grandmother), was born St. Patrick’s day and his father passed on March 19th.  March shows us that both life and death are the natural order of things and provides a roadmap to how to live the day.  

My week was spent in bed with the latest virus that is floating around.  A time for forced reflection and bad tv.  TV is filled with revelations of President Trump’s tweets and announcements.  One of which has been his accusation that President Obama had his phone tapped, which by every account has been debunked…by everyone but Donald Trump.  Every time a new source debunks Trump's statement of bugging Trump changes who helped President Obama, with the latest being the British government.  This morning I woke up to hear pleading from both the Republican and Democrat congressmen asking for Trump to step back and apologize for his statements.  We wait.

But it hit me when I heard someone ask, “What kind of man won’t say he is sorry?”, and my thoughts immediately went to Pat, who taught me the real measure of a man.

Let me begin by saying no one is perfect.  We all have our flaws of character, but Pat, by my account, was the most balanced of men I have ever met.  My biggest example of this is if when he came home from work and the kids blasted him with requests, he would often react by shouting  "No…No…No."  Mainly because all he had in his mind at that moment was just coming home and resting for a bit and the thought of doing anything was a big no.  But after some time, he would give it some thought and return to them with an apology and tell them he had rethought his reaction and most often would change his mind.  They needed to learn how to approach him, and he showed them the warm, loving side of being human.

Pat, Lucyann and Michael

One day when Damian sat in church, he phoned me after to tell me that his pastor had given a sermon that reminded him of how he never heard his Dad turn an angry word toward anyone, even if one deserved it and how remarkable that was to him.  

Pat demonstrated time and again with my own parents, who by any measure caused their share of pain and discomfort in life to those around them, especially us kids, yet, never in all the years did Pat, in any measure treat them in any fashion but respectfully.  In the end, when my father moved in with us, and I watched Pat change my Dad’s diaper as he had his fist clenched in defiance toward Pat, I was touched by the warm tenderness in the way he cared for my Dad.  I asked him once how he could do that after all that had happened over the years.  His two-word answer, “He’s family.”  

Pat with family always brought a smile!

That was the bottom line for Pat.  Family, was family.  He once said that the only way he could pay back the love he received through his very selfish teen years, was to give that kind of love back to the family that surrounded him today.  

Anyone who knew him in life, saw first hand that no one crossed his path that was not touched by his kindness or caring.  Anyone in need was offered a helping hand.  Just ask someone who found a temporary bed with us.  No one who came to our home ever left without a hug and a kiss, while he waited outside the door as they drove away with a wave and a smile.  I never saw him close a door to anyone until they were gone and out of sight.  The memory of Pat and how he lived, will always remain for me, an example for the true measure of a man.

HOW EASY WE FORGET

Miranda in WDC Woman's March January 2017

How quickly we assimilate change in our lives.  What we take for granted today, like iPhones and all that they can do, just a few short years ago was only possible in Syfy movies.  One of my first jobs in Pennsylvania was with Mauchly Associates, headed by Dr. John Mauchly.  At lunch, he and I would play an occasional game of chess where during our discussions he would tell me one day we would all need computers in our daily lives and even carry them in our pockets, and I would question him on this futuristic thinking. You see he was the co-inventor of the first digital computer, ENIAC and I was just a stupid young person with no vision.  I am embarrassed by the thoughts of those conversations today.

Those of us who carry any age (like me at 70) have seen first hand those things important in our lives one day, gone and replaced by more efficient items designed to make life easier the next.

It can be fun and exhilarating to experience the new innovations that the creative minds among us create and surprising how soon these new and innovative items assimilate into our normal everyday lives.  

There many changes that occur in our lives that soon we take for granted, going on thru the day with little or no thought about what we are doing or how we do it.  This hit me when I saw the many responses from people who posted negative stories with ugly rhetoric about the Woman’s March that occurred after Trump was sworn in as President.  I struggle with the conversations that take place peppered with name calling to express a point of view that challenges the purpose of the Woman’s March or any position for that matter. Since Nixon’s Presidency, the idea of not standing with a President in office to mean you are not Patriotic is nonsense to me.  No matter who is in office it is our right and obligation to question the deeds of our Presidents.  My voice as a citizen has a right to be heard and so does yours.  Also with this right, comes an obligation to educate yourself with the truth.  I know that seems hard to find in these days swollen with an opinion, but it can be found. 

Take the Women’s March for instance. People I know challenged my stand on the Women’s March saying I supported the march just because I hate Trump.  I want to be clear, I do not hate Trump.  I do not like the policy changes he is making, but I do not hate him.  I do not like his bullying that he does from the podium, but I do not hate him.  I do not like the fact that he has appointed people to head cabinet positions that historically have stood against the idea of that department, but I do not hate him.  I do not like the fact that he wants to dismantle the EPA (I remember when we almost lost Lake Michigan to pollution), but I do not hate him.

When men in politics pass laws and create programs that control what I can and cannot do I take that serious. That is why I stood with those that marched. I have witnessed in my lifetime the power of the pen.  What is given can be taken away.  Trump is showing us this by his decisions.  We have become lazy as citizens and forget those who came before us and the sacrifices they made to give us the freedoms we enjoy today.  But when I feel the pressure of the those who want to take us back to “the good ole days,” I get worried and figure it is time to get active again.  I don’t think many realize how recent some of these rights have been penned.  Let me share some with you.

1936; The federal law prohibiting the dissemination of contraceptive information through the mail is modified, and birth control information is no longer classified as obscene. Throughout the 1940s and 50s, birth control advocates are engaged in numerous legal suits.

1963: Congress passes the Equal Pay Act, making it illegal for employers to pay a woman less than what a man would receive for the same job.  Before this, a woman would be paid less for the same work, and even when laws were passed to stop this, the employers would change the title of a  woman's job to get away with paying her less.

1964:  Title VII of the Civil Rights Act bars discrimination in employment on the basis of race and sex. At the same time, it establishes the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) to investigate complaints and impose penalties.  I remember reading ads that said “No Irish need apply,” “Men only” "No Jews need apply" and “Whites Only.”

1965:  In Griswold v. Connecticut, the Supreme Court strikes down the one remaining state law prohibiting the use of contraceptives by married couples.

1967:  Executive Order 11375 expands President Lyndon Johnson's affirmative action policy of 1965 to cover discrimination based on gender. As a result, federal agencies and contractors must take active measures to ensure that women, as well as minorities, enjoy the same educational and employment opportunities as white males.  Yes, an executive order…like any President can honor or undo.  (Remember the power of the pen.)

1968:  The EEOC rules that sex-segregated help wanted ads in newspapers are illegal. This ruling is upheld in 1973 by the Supreme Court, opening the way for women to apply for higher-paying jobs hitherto open only to men.  

1972:  In Eisenstadt v. Baird the Supreme Court rules that the right to privacy includes an unmarried person's right to use contraceptives.  1972?  The right to privacy?  We all take this for granted!

1972, June:  Title IX of the Education Amendments bans sex discrimination in schools. It states: "No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any educational program or activity receiving federal financial assistance." As a result of Title IX, the enrollment of women in athletics programs and professional schools increases dramatically.  We must realize that we women gained from this program also.

1974:  The Equal Credit Opportunity Act prohibits discrimination in consumer credit practices on the basis of sex, race, marital status, religion, national origin, age, or receipt of public assistance.

1974: In Corning Glass Works v. Brennan, the U.S. Supreme Court rules that employers cannot justify paying women lower wages because that is what they traditionally received under the "going market rate." A wage differential occurring "simply because men would not work at the low rates paid women" is unacceptable.

1974: Until the Equal Credit Opportunity Act in 1974, women were not able to apply for credit. 

1974: The first law giving rights for a woman to refuse to have sex with her husband was passed.

1976:  The first marital rape law is enacted in Nebraska making it illegal for a husband to rape his wife.   Think about this….the FIRST law was written…up until this time it was legal!

1978:  The Pregnancy Discrimination Act bans employment discrimination against pregnant women. Under the Act, a woman cannot be fired or denied a job or a promotion because she is or may become pregnant, nor can she be forced to take a pregnancy leave if she is willing and able to work.

For those with Grandparents ask them what they remember about pregnant women in the workforce.  Many my age remember teachers disappearing from the classroom because they became pregnant. A friend of mine told me a story how her job with a large corporation was ended when her pregnancy began to show.  She was forced to quit. She was an administrative secretary to one of the top men and was told it was unbecoming to the company to look that way.  I also talked to a friend who told me she was directly told she would not be hired because if they did, she would just get married and then pregnant and they didn’t want to spend time training her.

1986:  Meritor Savings Bank v. Vinson, the Supreme Court finds that sexual harassment is a form of illegal job discrimination.  Even today, women in the workforce endure many sexual overtones with little recourse for the woman.  It is still hard to fight the “good-ole-boys” club.  Just follow the latest in the news today regarding the Marine Corp scandal.  

Study the above Executive Orders, Acts, Laws, and Court Cases.  These all came because someone stood up for their rights as a woman.  They fought for you and me.  There was a personal sacrifice to all who took this step.  We take them for granted today, but in the face of the dismantling of many programs now on the horizon of Trump's Presidency, nothing can be taken for granted.  Nothing.  That is why marching with women is important to me, for my daughters, granddaughters, and the woman to follow.  Woman's rights are human rights.

I shall step off my soap box now and go in silence to mend this damn head cold!

DISAPPOINTED

Let there be light!

Years ago as a young mother, with a group of women I met through a nursing mother’s group, we formed the organization FAMLEE….Fathers and Mothers learning thru education and experience.  

As I heard the news today that DeVos was confirmed as Educational Secretary, I was reminded of a young doctor who came to speak to our group about our role as parents.  He emphasized how important it was to not only take care of your own children but also worry about the children outside of your family.

“Get to know the kids standing on the street corner”, he said.  “Reach Out. It is not enough to just worry that your own child is fed, clothed or educated to the best of your ability.  You must also make sure that the kid standing on the corner has opportunities too.  Why you ask?  Because to ignore that child is something that may come back to haunt you…because that kid will be the one to play with your child, marry your child or even worse murder your child.”

I remember sitting there stunned at the thought.  It was blunt and to the point.  But it had a profound effect on me and my thinking.  We were not encouraged to be such do-gooders that we neglected our own children, but when given a choice by vote or pocketbook, to make a decision that would benefit those least among us.

I read Senator Toomey’s response as to why he voted yes for the DeVos appointment.  He mentioned that it was because DeVos wants to provide choice for all students.  That those parents who have been let down by the public school system should have a right to send their children to better schools...private schools…charter schools…for-profit schools.  What is not said here, is what happens to those with choice but not the means?  What can children expect from their public education if we drain resources from the public school systems to provide those choices?

Why could we not work to make the public school better?  Why not provide uniform resources among the public school systems within our states?  Why provide computers in the suburbs but not the inner-city?  This is the real work.  Equal opportunity to learn for all our children.  

 I have never been so disappointed in a selection of a cabinet member as I have been with DeVos.  I am disappointed that Pat Toomey consistently votes his party first and his constituents second.

What about the kids that are left in the public schools?  What are we doing to them?  What message are we sending to those least among us?

CELEBRATE

One more week before my wedding anniversary date arrives.  This has been such an unsettling summer, and it had nothing to do with the election!  A lonely walk down memory lane is a hard one to take.  I know those around me are tired of me moaning about it, but 50 is a big number.  Most who cross that threshold would be celebrating and rejoicing, but when you walk this walk alone, all you can do is think about what you had and now lost.  I will take this morning of the 24th and celebrate albeit alone, the day that forever changed my life.

My desire to surround myself with family during these times can be difficult because they are all so busy, so I try to busy myself.  It does not always work. I had a conversation the other day with others my age and discovered most all of us are walking this walk,  particularly those who have lost their life partner.  We have all experienced loss and as days go by we discover that those that entered this world with us are leaving us with only those we gather or gave birth to along the way.  What I heard in these conversations is that loneliness does not mean we are alone physically.  It is more that we have lost the intimacy of the closeness in a relationship.  To be intimate is to be let into someone's life.  To feel needed, important, and most important, wanted.  All seem fleeting in this world where everyone runs and has no time to slow down.

Saying this, I know I am luckier than some others.  I know there are those out there that never had an opportunity to create a family, so in watching them traverse through this period is interesting.  The common link for us is finding people that will let us into their life allowing for the sense of purpose.  Yes, we volunteer, we help, we give, but always something is missing in the end.  Intimacy.  Sharing. Belonging.  The other day I was in conversation with a friend who celebrates names.  Yes, names.  The history of names.  How we got them.  Why we got them.  He is from Ireland.  By the end of the conversation, we determined that we here in America long to belong to a "tribe."  We miss that personal sense of identity and belonging.

So as we enter this holiday season, take the time to look into the eyes of the older generation.  Let them know they are not forgotten.  We will all be enriched if you find a way to let them into your life. 

Happy Thanksgiving and Happy 50th to me!

VICTIM NO LONGER

I’ve been uneasy lately.  Sometimes it takes me time to figure these things out within myself as to why.  Hearing the hate rhetoric of this political campaign I know is part of it, so I have taken to tuning it out and making myself busy doing more enlightened activities.  

But then the other day I happen to be listening to the radio when Trump was speaking.  He announced that when the election is over, he plans on suing all the women who have stood and said he sexually assaulted them and the crowd cheered.  Like a thousand shards of glass, I felt pain from every one of those who cheered him on.  

My life has not been without its bullies.  For 11 years I was a victim of childhood sexual abuse and rape.  I was the keeper of the secret because I was told if I told anyone what was happening, I would be the one to get into trouble.  What does a 5-year-old know when an adult says that to them?

It took me until I was 17 to find the courage to speak the truth out loud.  In the end, I found power in letting the truth out, but not before my family abandoned me with accusations of my being a slut, whore and out just to get the uncle’s money.  But for the fact that I met my husband who showed me a different way of life I wonder where I would be today?

In my work life, I ran into two more bullies.  A job I had in a local printing shop had a supervisor who made inappropriate comments to all the women in the plant when they went about doing their business.  Then one day when I was working in the office in the early evening, that same supervisor came in and as usual standing over me, making his crude comments suddenly slipped his hand inside my shirt top.   I did not hesitate to take the incident to my boss.  An investigation took place supporting my story, the supervisor retired early with a “secret” retirement party, and then began a year long ugly shop talk by the “good ole boys club” of the plant.  In fear when I left work at night in the dark, I would find graffiti on my car or a flat tire.  Stage whisper conversations would occur as I walked out into the plant, talking about me as if I could not hear.  Running to the HR people was not feasible…how could I complain about every time I was made to feel uncomfortable.  So I endured.  A year later I left that job for another.

In my last job, I worked one year for an interim assistant principal covering for my boss who moved over to the Principal’s seat while that person was on sabbatical.  For one year, he bullied and badgered and went out of his way to let me know how he felt about me by either what he did or didn’t do.  At the end of the year when I was called into the office to discuss the Mum that was left on my desk every Monday with an upbeat note of encouragement, i.e., “The sun will come up tomorrow!  Love Annie”.  An accusation was brought against me as if I were the one who instigated the gift of the motivating Mum every Monday.  When I fought back, I was told just to buck up, that the end of the year was coming and this would be behind me.

I started with nightmare dreams like I had in the early years before my voice had been heard about the abuse I was experiencing.  I was initially puzzled as to why my abuse issues were rising.  Then, one day, when the year was behind me, it came to me.  That sense of abandonment by my boss, who instead of standing up for me, asked me just to endure the moment and let it pass.  “Be a good soldier”, he said.

The more powerful the bully, the harder it is for a victim to step up.  No one steps up without consequences.  Loss of family.  Loss of friends.  A feeling of being alone and knowing the truth and nowhere to turn.   It can be a lonely walk.

Being a victim is not easy.  Being let down by those around you is worse.  It took me a long time to come to terms with that part of it.  As I watched the ladies who have been harmed by Bill Cosby and now Donald Trump, I find myself saying, “You go girl!  Stand up to the bully!”  

For that is what men like this are.  They believe they have the right and their money allows them to push back hard.  I have learned over my course of living, that finding the courage to speak the truth even when others do not want to hear it, frees me.  I can breathe again.  I can walk with my head high, even when my heart breaks at the crush of words that may come.  I know the truth, just as the women who find themselves standing up to these men do.  There is a journalist, Michele Goldberg of Slate Magazine, who offered women a chance to share their personal story of bullies in the workplace.  She was unprepared for the avalanche of response.  It is not a club that anyone has asked to join.  It is not an easy club to belong.  But speaking the truth not only shines for others looking to do so but frees ourselves up to live the life we are entitled to live.  I am proud to be a survivor.  To not have let the bullies ruin my life.  I am one of the lucky ones.

To all of you who cheer Donald Trump on when he says he plans on suing these woman when this election is over, I pray your daughter never has to experience this pain.  And to those who have a story to tell, email Michele Goldberg, she wants to hear your story.  michelle.goldberg@slate.com

And to those who need light…I share the following:

“Don't judge yourself by what others did to you.” 

― C. Kennedy, Ómorphi

“You can recognize survivors of abuse by their courage. When silence is so very inviting, they step forward and share their truth so others know they aren't alone.” 

― Jeanne McElvaney, Healing Insights: Effects of Abuse for Adults Abused as Children

“Survivors of abuse show us the strength of their personal spirit every time they smile.” 

― Jeanne McElvaney, Healing Insights: Effects of Abuse for Adults Abused as Children

TRAVELING DOWN THE ROAD

Coyote Roadhouse
Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin

I want Thanksgiving to be over!  I cannot escape the yo-yo ride of emotion that has been with me since the summer started.  As I have said earlier, this would have been our 50th anniversary year, and I celebrate without my best friend by my side.  This past week I drove a friend out to Wisconsin to see her only son and daughter-in-law in their new home.  A journey for my friend turned out to be a sentimental journey for me.  It was Oct 7, 1966, that I moved from Ingleside, Illinois to Harleysville, Pennsylvania.  

Taking Audrey to her son in Wisconsin provided me an opportunity to drive through the place of my birth and where Pat and I first met and fell in love.  I was taken back by the emotion that rose up as I drove by Belvidere Road…Gurnee, Rollins Road…places, and names that are permanently etched in my bank of memories.  

The spot where Lake Michigan meets Green Bay.

The trip had one of those serendipity moments too.  Audrey’s son and daughter-in-law manage the Coyote Roadhouse in Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin.  The Roadhouse is one of those bar/eateries that locals love and where everyone knows your name.  As we walked in, although strangers,  we were greeted like lost old friends…a Midwestern attitude that I immediately recognized.  Great conversation, friendly faces, and some really good food made for an enjoyable time.  Later, talking to Carrie, Audrey’s daughter-in-law, she asked where in Illinois I lived. 

After telling her that I graduated from Grant Community High School in 1965, she indicated that her waitress, Diane Pinkham’s family is from there.  It turns out I graduated with Betty, her sister-in-law.  Small world.  Smaller when you think of how everything lined up to make this moment happen.

Door County Wisconsin is a beautiful place.  If you look at a map and check out the area between the bay of Green Bay and Lake Michigan, you will see a little strip of land tucked up between these two bodies of water.  I could easily see that life was hard for those who lived there all year round.  Working every hour you could while it was tourist season carried you through the winter months when everyone went home.  

What struck me, was how connected those who lived there were with each other.  Especially the art community.  Because I dabble in oil painting, Scott took us to some of the many galleries in the area.  What I observed was how supportive they were of each other.  “Oh, you like oil paintings?  Then you should check out the gallery at such and such.”  I would get a history of the artists represented.  Did I like photography, then it was a must I see so and so.  Many of the galleries we visited were artist owned.  The joy was in the conversation and energy felt during our conversations!  

It was a great trip with my friend Audrey.  I was glad to be able to take her out to see her son and his new home.  It was also a good trip for me.  I am reminded that life is still to be lived and there is much to explore.  And I look forward to the adventure of meeting new people and seeing new places…especially if they are all as friendly as the gang at the Coyote Roadhouse.  You should stop in if you get up that way.  They would be glad to see ya!

TRAVELING DOWN THE ROAD

Coyote Roadhouse
Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin

I want Thanksgiving to be over!  I cannot escape the yo-yo ride of emotion that has been with me since the summer started.  As I have said earlier this would have been the 50th anniversary year, and I celebrate without my best friend by my side.  This past week I drove a friend out to Wisconsin to see her only son and daughter-in-law in their new home.  A journey for my friend turned out to be a sentimental journey for me….timing.   For it was Oct 7, 1966, that I moved from Ingleside, Illinois to Harleysville, Pennsylvania.  

Taking Audrey to her son in Wisconsin provided me an opportunity to drive through the place of my birth and where Pat, and I first met and fell in love.  I was taken back by the emotion that rose up as I drove through Belvidere Road…Gurnee, Rollins Road…places, and names that are permanently etched in my bank of memories.  

The spot where Lake Michigan meets Green Bay.

The trip had one of those serendipity moments too.  Audrey’s son and daughter-in-law manage the Coyote Roadhouse in Baileys Harbor, Wisconsin.  The Roadhouse is one of those bar/eateries that locals love and where everyone knows your name.  As we walked in, although strangers,  we were greeted like lost old friends…a Midwestern attitude that I immediately recognized.  Great conversation, friendly faces, and some really good food made for an enjoyable time.  Later, talking to Carrie, Audrey’s daughter-in-law, she asked where in Illinois I lived. 

After telling her that I graduated from Grant Community High School in 1965, she indicated that her waitress Diane Pinkham’s family is from there.  It turns out I graduated with Betty, her sister-in-law.  Small world.  Smaller when you think of how everything lined up to make this moment happen.

Door County Wisconsin is a beautiful place.  If you look at a map and check out the area between the bay of Green Bay and Lake Michigan, you will see a little strip of land tucked up between these two bodies of water.  One could pick up that life was hard for those who lived there all year around.  Working every hour you could while it was tourist season carried you through the winter months when everyone went home.  

What I was struck with was how connected those who lived there all year round where.  Especially the art community.  Because I dabble in oil painting, Scott took us around to some of the many galleries in the area.  What I observed was how supportive they were of each other.  “Oh, you like oil paintings?  Then you should check out the gallery at such and such.”  I would get a history of the artists represented.  Did I like photography, then it was a must I see so and so.  In many of the galleries, we stopped they were artist owned and could found on premise for some wonderful conversation.  

It was a great trip with my friend Audrey.  I was glad to be able to take her out to see her son and his new home.  It was also a good trip for me.  I am reminded that life is still to be lived and there is much to explore.  And I look forward to the adventure of meeting new people and seeing new places…especially if they are all as friendly as the gang at the Coyote Roadhouse.  You should stop in if you get up that way.  They would be glad to see ya!