This week I had a close encounter of the first kind with a door latch. This was not the normal I “did not see where I was going” event. This was a simple exercise in walking that resulted in stitches to my neck, giving me empathy to Frankenstein. If one would ask me how I did it I would simply say “I do not know.” Which makes the question an exercise in futility since knowing how it happened and why it happened will not change the outcome: I fell. Everyone falls regardless of age, but lately I have misled my feet once too often for my comfort. What is going on with my physiology? Why does my lower body not coordinate with my upper body as it did before? What has changed in the last few years?
Children fall because they run, jump, skip, and put their bodies in acceleration that sometimes defies gravity. When my son turned three he decided that he could fly from the bed to the dresser like Superman. He flew but left his two front teeth embedded in the headboard for posterity. They were a conversation piece for the next thirty years when we finally got rid of the bed; which in itself was traumatic because I felt like I was giving away part of my son’s physiology. My son had other encounters with hard surfaces, but eventually they subsided. As he grew older his penchant for flying and “comic hero” worship subsided and was replaced by a stronger desire to attract girls. Which brings me to a logical inquiry: if children grow out of their clumsiness how come we revert to clumsiness as we grow old? At what point in time does our body start doing stupid things?

I noticed the difference in my coordination a few years ago when my feet wanted to go one way but I wanted to go another. Some might say it is preoccupation because of a busy life style. Some might even say that today’s world is so full of distractions that it becomes difficult to remain focused on our actions. All possible explanations but none would explain my latest mishap with a door. I knew that the door was there as I knew that the rug was on the floor. So what happened from the time I stepped on the rug until the time I slipped and almost decapitated myself? One might add that a child might have been the victim and slipped, which is plausible. But I contend that after a certain unmarked age we revert to childhood in more ways than one. One does not hear often of a thirty-year old falling, but one does lament when an “old lady” falls! Except that “old ladies” are a thing of the past because we are in a generation of “new” something or other. I am the “new 40”, and my mother at 98 is the “new 80.” If we are deflating our age, how come we remain victims to it? People my age may be the “new 40” but their hair is still turning grey, they tire quicker, their bodies rebel, and they start to lose their grip on their lower bodies and fall.
As we resist old age we also resist our body’s plea to slow down because it cannot keep up with us any longer and it is getting tired. But we are slaves to Madison Avenue and thirty-something advertisers who tell us, no they demand, that we remain young! We have products to reduce and tackle everything from wrinkles to flab in an attempt to slow down the aging process. Is there a product for clumsiness? Can I take a potion and not fall again? Can I go to a plastic surgeon to reduce the possibility that my feet do not coordinate with my brain?

Growing older and old is a process and an adventure. We discover and rediscover ourselves several times over. We begin to realize that we have limitations and that no matter how young or great we look, our bodies are not fooled into thinking that we are younger. I remember an old commercial for margarine “you can’t fool mother nature.” How true. We spend money on products and regimes that help keep us looking young and feeling young, but do they stop the aging process? Do they stop us from being distracted and tripping? Are we a 60+ generation delusional in thinking that because we look like Cher and want to act like her we can stop the aging process and all that goes with it? At 92 Betty White is still popular on television but even she admits that “hey, I’m 92!” What she is trying to tell us is that no matter how energetic she might seem to us, she is fully aware that she is 92 and not younger. Maybe if we come to terms with ourselves and our ages we become comfortable enough to take care of ourselves more. Maybe clumsiness is only the product of one’s delusion that aging can be “controlled.” This attempt inadvertently disregards nature’s way of telling our brains that our reflexes are not as sharp as they used to be. So, am I clumsy? Hell yes…age has nothing to do with it!

This week I had a close encounter of the first kind with a door latch. This was not the normal I “did not see where I was going” event. This was a simple exercise in walking that resulted in stitches to my neck, giving me empathy to Frankenstein. If one would ask me how I did it I would simply say “I do not know.” Which makes the question an exercise in futility since knowing how it happened and why it happened will not change the outcome: I fell. Everyone falls regardless of age, but lately I have misled my feet once too often for my comfort. What is going on with my physiology? Why does my lower body not coordinate with my upper body as it did before? What has changed in the last few years?
Children fall because they run, jump, skip, and put their bodies in acceleration that sometimes defies gravity. When my son turned three he decided that he could fly from the bed to the dresser like Superman. He flew but left his two front teeth embedded in the headboard for posterity. They were a conversation piece for the next thirty years when we finally got rid of the bed; which in itself was traumatic because I felt like I was giving away part of my son’s physiology. My son had other encounters with hard surfaces, but eventually they subsided. As he grew older his penchant for flying and “comic hero” worship subsided and was replaced by a stronger desire to attract girls. Which brings me to a logical inquiry: if children grow out of their clumsiness how come we revert to clumsiness as we grow old? At what point in time does our body start doing stupid things?

I noticed the difference in my coordination a few years ago when my feet wanted to go one way but I wanted to go another. Some might say it is preoccupation because of a busy life style. Some might even say that today’s world is so full of distractions that it becomes difficult to remain focused on our actions. All possible explanations but none would explain my latest mishap with a door. I knew that the door was there as I knew that the rug was on the floor. So what happened from the time I stepped on the rug until the time I slipped and almost decapitated myself? One might add that a child might have been the victim and slipped, which is plausible. But I contend that after a certain unmarked age we revert to childhood in more ways than one. One does not hear often of a thirty-year old falling, but one does lament when an “old lady” falls! Except that “old ladies” are a thing of the past because we are in a generation of “new” something or other. I am the “new 40”, and my mother at 98 is the “new 80.” If we are deflating our age, how come we remain victims to it? People my age may be the “new 40” but their hair is still turning grey, they tire quicker, their bodies rebel, and they start to lose their grip on their lower bodies and fall.
As we resist old age we also resist our body’s plea to slow down because it cannot keep up with us any longer and it is getting tired. But we are slaves to Madison Avenue and thirty-something advertisers who tell us, no they demand, that we remain young! We have products to reduce and tackle everything from wrinkles to flab in an attempt to slow down the aging process. Is there a product for clumsiness? Can I take a potion and not fall again? Can I go to a plastic surgeon to reduce the possibility that my feet do not coordinate with my brain?

Growing older and old is a process and an adventure. We discover and rediscover ourselves several times over. We begin to realize that we have limitations and that no matter how young or great we look, our bodies are not fooled into thinking that we are younger. I remember an old commercial for margarine “you can’t fool mother nature.” How true. We spend money on products and regimes that help keep us looking young and feeling young, but do they stop the aging process? Do they stop us from being distracted and tripping? Are we a 60+ generation delusional in thinking that because we look like Cher and want to act like her we can stop the aging process and all that goes with it? At 92 Betty White is still popular on television but even she admits that “hey, I’m 92!” What she is trying to tell us is that no matter how energetic she might seem to us, she is fully aware that she is 92 and not younger. Maybe if we come to terms with ourselves and our ages we become comfortable enough to take care of ourselves more. Maybe clumsiness is only the product of one’s delusion that aging can be “controlled.” This attempt inadvertently disregards nature’s way of telling our brains that our reflexes are not as sharp as they used to be. So, am I clumsy? Hell yes…age has nothing to do with it!

A few weeks ago, one of my employees was excited because he had just driven a new car that parks sans driver interaction. That’s right: “look ma no hands.” I incredulously asked how it operated. He explained that its navigation system was computerized to allow the driver to select a spot, and the car will do its thing. His overwhelming experience included a play by play detail of how the car moved back and forth until it was “exactly in the middle of the parking spot.” As I pondered this marvel, my inquisitive mind took a hold of my mouth and asked: “So what happens if the computer goes south?” As the Jeopardy clock ticked its annoying tune in my head, my friend was left bereft and finally stammered: “I guess…well I don’t know.” That’s right folks!!! As Bugs Bunny would say: “eh bidi, bidi, bidi…that’s all folks!” The manufacturer has determined that we are idiots and cannot park. That’s encouraging.

Lately my 60+ brain has been having a hard time coming to terms with the rapid increase in technology that has rendered a generation impotent in basic skills. Cars no longer take you from point A to point B…they have become our social companions and feel the urge to talk to us in the process. They want to interact. Wow, some of us probably interact more with our automobiles than our families. A few years back while my roadster was being worked on, the BMW dealer decided to be extra kind to me and give me a BMW 7-series for a loaner. It was not a car, it was a bus. I had to sit on two pillows to reach the clutch. I am barely five foot tall and I was given half a ton of steel that was powerful enough to drive me to work in 15 minutes! The trip normally took 35 on a good day! At first I was fascinated by the “assistant” who helped me park, told me to put my seatbelt on, beeped to tell me I was too close to the car in front, and continually and incessantly felt the urge to alert me to things I had never felt the urge to be alerted for. After 48 hours of driving with “another woman” that happened to dwell somewhere in the bowels of my car, I felt a strong compulsion to open the hood, pull all the wires and silence her forever. No jury would have convicted me. I can see my defense: “driven to insanity by technology your Honor!” Obviously car manufacturers have gotten the idea that drivers have become too inept to drive, park, merge, and find their way home without incessant robotic chatter. Why would anyone with a legal license require continual instructions on how to drive? Does not one receive these instructions before getting a license? Did our parents and grandparents drive less safely because they did not have a voice in their head and under the hood telling them that they were too close to a vehicle? Why bother taking driving lessons if technology has made cars idiot proof? The BMW dealer told me that any idiot can drive the car. I rest my case.

The idiot-proofing of this generation does not end on the road. It has found its way to our classrooms. Our educators are bent on giving “life skills” instead of teaching. I had to go online and search for “life skills” because for the life of me I had no clue what they were. Have I been missing out on skills that would have made my life better, more educated, more successful, more adapt to face the good, the bad, and the ugly? According to Answers.com and Arish Mudra Rakshasa (n/d), the ten life skills include: self-awareness, problem solving, decision-making, critical thinking, creative thinking, interpersonal relationships, empathy, and effective communication, handling stress, and handling emotions. This got me thinking about our ancestors. People like Michelangelo, Puccini, Shakespeare, Strauss, Verdi, Madame Curie, Einstein, and many more who went through their life without taking classes in “life skills.” I guess they realized and knew exactly who they were supposed to be. Are today’s children so inept that they require someone to tell them that they are sentient? Have we made them so idiot-proof to life’s trials and tribulations that we now have to teach them how to recognize their self awareness? Have we created a generation of robotic individuals who must be guided through life or become non-functional? Which brings me to the whooper of questions: do we really have to make them comprehend the simplicity of adding and subtraction because they are “life skills?”
When I went to school we were taught the basic and fundamental foundations to what we so fondly referred to as the Three Rs; reading, writing, arithmetic. My first recollection of a “calculator” was the abacus: an instrument that can be traced back to ancient times: 300 BC to be exact. This simple instrument went through the great Roman and Greek scholars who used it not only for basic math, but to do calculations. The abacus I grew up with dates back to 1200 AD and had its roots in China. Wow!!! A basic instrument made out of wood, wire, and beads that can not only assist in adding, subtracting, multiplication, and division, but according to some current scholars, can even determine square roots and cubic roots of numbers. I took my abacus to school as fondly as I took my lunch. Those colored beads made me realize that if I move them to the left or right, I would be subtracting or adding as the case may be. Now we have turned the simple and fundamental mathematical exercise of adding and subtracting into a convoluted exercise in attempting to give children an idiot-proof idea of math. I might be getting senile, but what is there to understand in adding and subtracting? Do I really need to wrap my brain into the concept that if I take something away I will have less and if I add I will have more? Do we really need to elevate simplicity into complicated nonsense that confuses even Confucius? Does this generation of kids need another excuse to think less? Despite all the idiot-proofing, is this generation more intelligent, successful, assertive, resilient, heroic, and self-aware than what we were? Are we producing more geniuses? Are “life-skills” preventing teen suicide? Is the continual “protection” made our teens unable to cope with simple disappointments in life?

My parents were big on education and bigger on life experiences. We were taught good from bad, success from failure, and common sense; however, when we failed we were expected to try until we succeed which we normally did. When one day I came home from school and grumbled about my teacher, and how she does not want us to have fun; my pragmatic father retorted: “school is for learning; if you want fun go to a playground.” I never grumbled again and went through school always trying to do my best knowing that doing my best will pay off in the long run. When calculators started creeping into our lives, I asked my father for one; once again his pragmatic side took over; “why would you want a toy for dummies?” No answer to that. Even today I refrain from using a calculator and still add and subtract in my head, and without undue strenuous comprehension adding and subtracting increases and decreases respectively. Go figure!

As I grow older I am nostalgic for the days when children were given a solid foundation in life and education. When parents were the “life skill” builders, and took time to teach and mentor their children. When teachers were able to teach fundamental skills like the three Rs, and when children were left to learn the toughness of life in a loving way. The current trend to idiot-proof our children’s lives into oblivion is going to be painful when they wake up one day and realize that they are a generation of weak, self-centered, idle-brained adults with plenty of self-awareness and little or no resiliency to life. A deep thought indeed which I would dwell on longer if it weren’t for the fact that my GPS needs a new battery. I simply cannot live without it!

It mind boggles me why anyone would want to attack one’s body with needles. Possibly because I’m petrified of needles; which includes anything that minutely resembles a sharp object entering my skin involuntarily. Having said that, I am awed, intrigued, and even mystified how one can sit for hours allowing oneself to be drilled and punctured like a pin cushion. The current popularity of body piercings and tattoos especially among women is unexplainable, especially to me. When I ask the reason behind the leap into the body “art” I generally get the sheepish answer of “I like it.” When I ask if this quasi permanent art would still be liked at 90, I get a shrug. Why do young women find it necessary to taint and mutilate their bodies?
A few weeks ago a young mother of two walked into our business donning purple hair and ear piercings that numbered in the dozen. Besides the fact that I could not take my eyes off her ears because I was expecting them to fall off; I was also wondering why a mother would subject her children to a blatant display of ink and steel. Is she really advocating her children get tattoos and piercings when they grow up? Is this her mentoring strategy? As women we encounter enough challenges in life without adding body mutilation to the list. So far when asked, not one woman has ever told me why she inked and drilled. I have received many an evasive answer which brings me to think that maybe this is a question of emulating rather than instinct. Of course there is always the odd pseudo intellectual reply that tattoos and piercings are an expression of “art.” Balderdash! Tell that to the corporate executive looking for professionals. Do these women really expect to be marketable as serious executive material looking like the Sistine Chapel and with enough nose rings that could tie a horse?
Some young women coquettishly reason that “body art” should not make a difference; “it’s the brain that counts.” They point out NCIS character Abby, the Goth in large tats that also happens to be a forensic genius. My question to these women: Are you for real? Is that how far we have sunk; we do not know the difference between a TV show and reality? Pauley Perrette, who stars as Abby owned up to the fact that the large tattoos “belong to CBS.” She does have small tats on her arms and fingers. Nonetheless, Pauley Perrette is an actor playing a character and “that” as they say is what she will remain for the rest of her life; an actor playing roles. I am not disparaging Ms. Perrette’s acting abilities or the fact that she is an actor, but in reality the job market is a different story and competition is tough. Regardless of discrimination laws and fair hiring practices, a serious organization does not hire clowns. It pains me to think that the sacrifice of so many women throughout history is being washed aside in ink and piercings. Women like Marie Curie, Helen Keller, and Amelia Earhart, who had to fight against stereotypical ideas and notions that women are not to be taken seriously. Add to the equation spider tattoos, nose and tongue piercings and you have a recipe for dismissive reaction by a prospective employer. The old adage that “it should not make a difference” is again total rubbish because we are still living in a society where impressions and conceptions lead to thought and mindset. If you look like a fool, then in my opinion you would be a fool regardless of how deep your intellectual gray cells might be. Walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it is a duck. Walk into an interview looking like a biker from Hell’s Angels and I doubt that you will be the first consideration for the Chief Financial Officer position!
What frustrates me the most is the complacency of women who take on a decision when they are young without thinking through consequences. One of my favorite comedians is Carlos Mencia who had a stand-up routine called Mind of Mencia. Carlos is fearless, raw, and non-discriminatory when it comes to comedy. In one routine he was deriding tattoos for basically the same reasons I have already described. He hit on a popular tattoo often seen on celebrities: barbed wire around the upper arm. He was eloquent to point out that the barbed wire at 30 will turn to a picket fence at 80! How true, and how visionary!
My almost 98 year-old mother was always telling us that “only those people” had tattoos or piercings. I have already discussed the nebulous “those people” remark by mater, but in this context she was referring to women of lesser breeding. When we were kids, the women she referred to either served liquor behind the bar to sailors, or served sailors in other capacity. That motherly conclusion remained imbedded in my mind. Everyone has choices in life, and those who chose to be or remain “those people” will most probably also remain within that social level and standards. Which brings me to my seething frustrating curiosity: Why is it that women today want to emulate Pauley Perrette and not Condoleezza Rice? Why do they want to look like Snooky and not Audrey Hepburn? Why do they want to settle for pseudo idealistic freedom instead of a successful career? Why do they look for inspiration in Beyonce, Miley Cyrus, and Lady Ga Ga instead of Mother Theresa, Eleanor Roosevelt, or Margaret Thatcher? Why are they settling for the vulgar rather than the elegant? What has changed since we were children when mothers mentored us and encouraged us to reach for the gold?
Maybe I am too conservative, old fashioned, unbending, and set in my ways; but for certainty the women that I looked up to did not find freedom and intellect in tattoos or piercings. They found it in their families who instilled values that would launch them into a successful life. They found it in books and stories about great heroines like Helen Keller, Marie Curie, Florence Nightingale, and others who opened up a world of possibilities to young girls. Is tattooing and piercing just a fad? Will it pass like painted eyebrows and curlers? Or is Carlos Mencia right? Are we going to be looking at a generation of sagging, faded, octogenarians with “picket fences” or worse? Ugh!!!

Last week the Turkish Deputy Prime Minister made an alleged disparaging remark about women. The remark was so offensive that pundits on both sides of the aisle had to mention it on every cable news station. How bad was it? According to The Guardian (Turkish women defy deputy PM with laughter, July 30, 2014); Deputy Prime Minister Bulent Aric stated that “Chastity is so important. It’s not just a word, it’s an ornament [for women]…A woman should be chaste. She should know the difference between public and private. She should not laugh in public.” Mr. Aric was celebrating the end of Ramadan and lamenting moral corruption in Turkey. Of course every Turkish woman with a cell phone promptly selfies the biggest smile and tweets the picture across the world in defiance. But one question remains; are women louder than man? Are women more immoral than men? Was Mr. Aric so off the mark?

What is so negative in Mr. Aric’s remark? Is chastity not important anymore? Are women upset because he referred to chastity as an “ornament?” Exactly what was in the statement that brought us women to the brink of hysterical rebellion? Hold on to your chastity belts girls because here it goes: I tend to fully agree with Mr. Aric’s statement that women should know the difference between public and private behavior. The current generation of “anything goes” women has managed to elevate vulgar public behavior to acceptable. Growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, women were given special respect because they were the ones who gave birth, raised children, and developed the next generation of successful adults. Women took their role as nurturers and mothers very seriously. Our parents raised us with values that they hoped would get us through life and contribute to the success of the country. Something went wrong in the late 60’s, when women took “liberation” as a passport toward public displays of surliness and vulgarity. We told men that we did not want or need their respect any more. We told them not to hold a door open for us. Not to help us be seated in a restaurant. Not to carry groceries. Not to give us a seat on a crowded bus. That’s right, we told them to treat us as boorish as they treat themselves: swear in front of us, wear pants down to the ankles with underwear showing, write songs that demean us, design clothes for embryos: that’s right, we wanted to be treated as equals. We wanted it because we were liberated!

Let’s fast forward to today. Fashion bares it all, celebrities bare so much that there is nothing left to the imagination, and young girls below teens are now mothers. Chastity does not only refer to sexual activity, but to deportment and general behavior. The uproar about the choice of words in Mr. Aric’s statement deflects the true message. Women have become lewd, vulgar, and to some extent ignorant of their role in society. Knowing the difference between public and private behavior would save most of us the pain of watching reality shows were women display themselves as crass and undoubtedly stupid. Is this what we want our next generation of women to be? Women already have a tough time competing in the business world, add to that; tattoos, piercing, and vulgarity, and we have a generation of unmarketable females whose only purpose in life is gripe that the world is unfair to them because of who they are. I have this unpopular message to these women: grow up. Be yourselves on your own time and dime, but do not expect anyone else to cater to your silly notion that because you think you should act like an idiot everyone in the world is okay with it. Nobody is going to hire a clown, and no customer wants to be served by one. So the notion that “doing your thing” is acceptable is not only moronic but probably lends to the reason you are out of work and I have to fork out unemployment benefits to you!

I have an issue with Mr. Aric’s concerns about women’s laughter in public. At this point in his remarks I felt like asking him if he had been drinking the Kool-Aid. However, do women laugh louder than men in public? I must admit that when a gaggle of women are together, it seems that the laughter goes up in decibels. Is this possibly because we tend to talk over each other? Is laughing loud an assertion that we are now liberated enough not to be afraid to be heard loud; even in laughter? Are we trying to outdo men? When in a crowd of mixed company, us women seem to be louder than the men, and we tend to give our laughs more gusto than our male counterparts. We also seem to dominate conversations leaving very little time and space for the males to even interject let alone laugh. Why? I have a theory. My hypothesis is that a male conspiracy is afoot to make women look more dominant and men acquiescent in an effort to win sympathy. “That poor man has to put up with that!” Wink, wink, nod, nod…and the man wins again. Mr. Aric was trying to assert himself as the alpha male who has been stripped of his masculinity by women’s laughter. One can almost feel pity for him. However, his inference to the laughter reduced the rest of his message to ridicule. He should have stopped at “chastity” then he might have at least scored a few points.

My 97-year old mother raised five girls, and believe you me, it was not an easy task. She frowned upon anything we wore which she considered “vulgar” or worse; something “those people” would wear. To this very day I fail to identify “those people” and she does not divulge her acquaintance either. What she was trying to instill in us was a sense of what was considered right and acceptable to young ladies heading into the world. Her reference to “those people” meant those who were not successful in life because of either upbringing or behavior. We were not to emulate “those people.” The difference between my mother’s philosophy and today’s parents is as wide as the Grand Canyon. Her philosophy was to be the best by being someone other than a loser, whereas today’s parents leave it up to the kids to decide, thus leaving us with a generation of semi-coherent morons. Folks complain about the deteriorating values of this generation, yet they are afraid to identify truism. Case in point is Mr. Aric’s reference to women’s decorum; he missed the boat with his “laughter” analogy, but hit the nail on the head in stating that women should behave appropriately in public. What he was saying in a very clumsy way: keep your private bedroom antics where they belong: in your homes. A line from my favorite old movie To Sir with Love with Sidney Poitier sums up this sentiment. Sidney Poitier played a school teacher in the early 60’s in East London. When female students burnt a personal condiment in the class room he became enraged. After he threw the boys out of the class room he told the girls to clean up the mess and added for emphasis: “keep this filth in your homes and not in my classroom.” My sentiments exactly.

Last week the National Organization for Women (NOW) held their convention in Las Vegas. The main topic was of course “The War on Women.” So Amazonian, so Trojan, so superfluous, and so beyond insignificant. This happened simultaneously with the continual abduction, rape, and selling into marriage of young African girls and women primarily from Nigeria, Kenya, and Sudan. Also this week a group of Qatari women were campaigning to retain “modesty” in their country defraying foreigner women who ignore local dress codes and laws. What do these three events have in common? And why do I find them compelling?
In the early 60’s women were compartmentalized into three main life categories: secretaries, teachers, or mothers. With the insurrection of NOW and other women’s movements, women got the courage to demand more of Corporate America and society. Society rapidly embraced the possibility that women can accomplish and be par with their male counterparts in business, science, and technology. Young girls could finally self-develop, compete, and be allowed to excel in facets of education, finance, science, and management; areas formerly dominated by men. That WAS a NOW accomplishment! However, with time and increased political partisanship, the organization lost its primary objective and became entangled in superfluous political irrelevancy. The current War on Women “fad” is a good example of empty rhetoric to keep the organization “current.” NOW and other women activists have taken up the nebulous “war” banner that disguises social entitlement and public funding as a cause of justice and rights. The suffragette cry is as absurd as chewing water. It boils down to a generation of women demanding tax payers to fund personal life style choices under the disguise of women’s rights without accountability or responsibility. The exploitation of women is being propagandized by NOW for political gain and with little substance; for example birth control is offered in Planned Parenthood clinics nationwide, and these clinics are already funded by tax payers, whether we are on the same side of the fence or not; so what’s the beef? Why make personal sexual choices a defined “right?” Why build the trenches? Why go after private enterprise and other women refusing to give in to totalitarians? Why blatantly lie to women? What caused NOW and this generation of women to lose its way in a labyrinth of political polarization alienating those who disagree? How did a women’s organization become so biased against other women? Why does NOW think it has a monopoly on women’s social justice?

Earlier on this week, the BBC interviewed a young Nigerian girl who daily risks her life by attending school. She is bent on becoming a doctor. Every day she takes a gamble on her life. Other African women are fighting for rights that are beyond comprehension to most of us; like the right not to be married off as a young girl. Now these ARE examples of the “War on Women.” These are fundamental and specific human rights denied to young girls and women because of gender bias and under the pretense of religious and cultural significance. Where is NOW? Where is the indignation of women all over the world? Beyond silly social media “hash tag” messages by Hollywood, little has been said or done. Why is NOW not indignant? Why was not this discussed in Vegas? Where is NOW’s social justice message? Why doesn’t the organization join with other women’s groups in Africa and the Middle East to support and assist? I tell you why: that would mean going into a real fight. Getting down in the real trenches of human rights. NOW is in a comfortable political cocoon, funded by major political players and not eager to rock the proverbial political boat that supports it.

Women’s rights are hardly one-dimensional. Cultures and ethnicity are major factors to be taken into consideration when fighting for any right. For example: some women groups in Qatar are getting annoyed with foreign influence on their cultural values especially when it comes to clothing. These Qatari women are not demanding that foreign women wear Burqas, but they are asking politely for courtesy and understanding in regard to what they consider “modesty” within their culture. Their campaign is called “Reflect Your Respect.” I remember how as a child raised on a Catholic Mediterranean Island was brought up with the concept that ladies should always remain “modest.” However, with the influx of tourists and foreigners, “modesty” soon went out of the window. Foreigners and visitors unabashedly disregarded our “modesty” laws especially on beaches. We finally gave in under the misconception that if we do not accommodate we will lose out on the tourist trade. Now everything struts the streets and there is no turning back. What was unique to our country was obliterated for the mundane and at times the vulgar.

Led by Mariam Saleh, a mother of young children, the Qatari women want to take a stand on their cultural values and the right to preserve these values from outside influences. Whether the rest of the world agrees with them, their religion, or their philosophy, is frankly irrelevant. They are asking foreign women to respect their country and abide by their laws. Is it unreasonable? It is a personal choice to visit or live in Qatar, so why find it difficult to abide by the country’s laws and cultural diversity? Why do we only push diversity when it is convenient? This brings me back to NOW: are the women in Qatar less deserving of your attention than those who believe in pro-choice? Should not women’s rights be protected everywhere? It is amazing that Qatari women took it upon themselves to protect their values and rights without envoking any organization or political body to help them. They are fighting for “modesty.” What a concept. They are campaigning for their right to protect their teachings and culture regardless whether the rest of the world is “OK” with it or not. I say bully for them! I guess this was not discussed in Vegas either.

In the last decade we have thrown clichés like bird seed in a park. Words like: values, rights, justice, and equality have been minced into activism sans substance and objectivity. The entitled society has managed to take historical significant milestones (like the civil rights movement), and dilute it into disingenuous childish and often foolish causes for the few malcontents or the flavor of the month. NOW should be a beacon of hope that gives energy and determination to all women around the world. NOW should represent and stand by all women regardless of diverse values and convictions. Picking and choosing politically correct and convenient causes, and affiliating to partisan agendas, has turned NOW into a sad caricature of its former self; an insult to those of us who can actually differentiate between a just cause and inane rhetoric.

How long is NOW going to remain relevant? When is the organization going to take a hard look at itself and go back to the fundamental reason it existed in the first place: to support every woman’s right of choice, whether executive or motherhood, pro-life or pro-choice, straight or gay, young or old, liberal or conservative? At 97, my mother has remained true to her convictions as a mother, wife, and woman. She finds today’s women petty, over dramatic, and unable to cope with a life they chose for themselves. My mother did not need an organization to tell her what her priorities were as a woman. I will never know whether my mother was happy or not being a mother and a wife because she was too busy being both. She never discussed the choices she made in her life but just took on life and the responsibility of raising seven children with energy and love seldom witnessed in women today. Consequently, my mother was and remains the most liberated woman I have ever known. Way to go mom!

“I can’t believe it is the same man I married!” Sounds familiar? The athletic, energetic, macho “I’m taking on” man that some twenty, thirty, forty, years prior was the poster boy for everything youth stands for. Now you vacuum around him, move the furniture while he is still sitting on it, and you can’t get him off the couch if your life depended on it. The remote is firmly implanted in his hand growing out of his body like a grotesque limb. He has also developed selective hearing: he can’t hear you when you point to the thrash piling in the kitchen corner like Mount Everest, but he perks up at the sound of a neighbor with a six pack of beer! Gone are the snazzy jeans and shirts; in are the plaids, braces, and weird shoes. Comfort has taken a life of its own. And if he could, he would sleep and rise in the same clothes he has worn for the past week.

What happens when men grow older? Why do they seem to wallow in the glow of age and comfort whereas women are gearing up to take on life? Why is it that when women reach their “golden age” they develop a devilish energy to take on the world, whereas men seem to shrink in a caricature of their old self? What happened to the energy? What happened to the “get up and go”? Where has it gone? Men take on age as a cat takes to a couch. It is comfortable. Once retirement hits they tell themselves that “hey, I can grow roots!” Why the difference?

I have a theory: most women spend their youth taking care of someone or something. If married, their life is spent between taking care of kids, volunteering with kids, school conferences, kid outings, school sport, cooking, cleaning, and driving everyone and everything around, and let’s not forget the husband side of the equation. That could include entertaining him, his bosses, and his friends. They have no time to sit and wonder what old age would be like. If they also hold down employment I doubt very much that ever have much time to sit down and think at all. Once kids leave home and the “nest” is empty and quiet, they are awakened to a strange concept called: self awareness. This discovery is overwhelming in its simplicity. Realizing that intellectual conversation beyond the mundane is possible, thinking beyond cooking, cleaning, children, and husband is incredible They also make astounding biological discoveries that they had little time to consider like the possibility of manicured nails growing to a normal size, styled hair, attractive clothes that fit, high heels on feet that ran marathons around the house, kids, and husband. This self-awareness becomes as exciting as a National Geographic discovery of rare species. They finally wake up to the realization that they are singularly and individually viable!

To continue on my theoretical hypothesis: men are socially advantaged early in life and like gluttons they wallow in what life and society offers them: good paying jobs, golf, beer, poker, football, fast cars, and sometimes even a fluff or two. All in good fun! They embrace life and its opportunities like King Kong embraced Fay Wray on the Empire State Building. Quoting a line from one of my favorite movies The First Wives Club; Bette Midler describes her husband’s mid-life crises by relating how he accused her of holding him back “because I would not go roller blading with him. Next he had an earring…” Men renounce their adulthood for the first forty years of their lives when women are busy asserting theirs for the sake of either a family, a career, or in some cases; both. While men are frolicking in child-like pastimes and exciting opportunities, women are nurturing children and preparing them for their adult life. They put their own “frolicking” on the back burner. So as soon as the children leave home and the nurturing abruptly stops, they get a second chance and wind at what they missed in the first third of their lives.

Are men better at handling age or do they talk themselves into believing that they accept it graciously? Do they realistically become tired of their fast life and look forward to sedateness, or do they accept sedateness because they are realistic? So let’s be realistic: as years hit men’s bodies, hair, and stomachs, their egos start to deflate like air in an oversized balloon. Their jokes are no longer funny and they realize that it is time to slow down and enjoy the years ahead: they want to relax. No to stereotype: we have all known some relative or other who takes on getting older by attempting to look younger. They “botox” here and there, add hair implants, in an attempt to hold on to what they considered the “swinging” years often ending up looking pitifully ridiculous. Unfortunately the transition from “swinger” to old happens simultaneously as the woman discovers life as she has never known it, and starts to tick off items on her bucket list faster than a kid playing a video game . She takes on life with gusto like Chef Ramsey takes on Beef Wellington. She is now older, wiser, and more capable than before. She has had years to develop will power and character. She raised a family, took care of the house, and made sure that her husband never left the house with his bedroom slippers on. She is ready to start living.

I was asked by a man a few months ago why I thought that some marriages are folding after 30 or more years. I explained that by nature women are nurturers and they tend to take care of either the family or someone else in their lives. Married women sacrifice their youth to raise a family and sometimes hold down a job as well. Their lives are so inundated with responsibilities that they miss out on what their male counterparts get to do. When the children grow up and leave, women realize that a huge void has suddenly appeared in their lives. Some also realize that the children were the ultimate glue that held the family together, and once gone the nurturing aspect of the marriage disappeared with them. They start looking for activities that may fill up the nurturing void, and when they find them they go at them with a vengeance. This happens simultaneously as the husband grows older, tired, and is ready to pass out on the couch “until death do us part.” So while one partner is ready to drop the proverbial couch “anchor,” the other is gearing up to start a career and a new life.

Do men enjoy growing old more than women? Society is partial to blame for the age and gender stereotype casting. A man gets gray hair, puts on weight, and is “distinguished.” A woman shows her first streak of gray hair, puts on a few pounds, and she might as well pack it in. The former can still remain on top of his game in Corporate America, the latter has to color her hair twice a month, and lose a few pounds before being considered for anything more serious than a Wal-Mart Greeter! To conclude my hypothesis: by gender and social characteristics men are more comfortable with “themselves” than women are. Therefore they would logically consider growing older another opportunity to do what they enjoy: watch football, drink beer, golf, and anything else they consider “fun.” Women on the other hand have always been held to tougher standards socially and by gender; therefore, growing old is taken as another disadvantage bestowed upon by no other than Mother Nature. What men consider as an opportunity for “comfort,” women see as another challenge to be overcome.

My mother is 97 and has been a widow for over 30 years. My father was an energetic active individual who had little time or patience for what he called “sissies” and slow-paced people. My mother stayed home to raise seven kids, whereas my father went to work at a job he thoroughly loved, rode a motorcycle until the day he died, and swam in the Mediterranean until the water got too cold to dip in. My father never really grew “old.” On the other hand, my mother never took on age as a handicap either but embraced it matter-of-factly; letting her hair grow silver as the years piled on. In her late 80’s she was still helping out “old” people at a seniors’ home. My mother and father were both “comfortable” in their age. That is the answer: whether a man or a woman and at whatever age; we must remain comfortable in our age. If I ever reach the age of 97, I hope that I can be as wise and beautiful as my silver-haired mother who makes being old “comfortable,” elegant, and more than acceptable.

Who would have thought? Having been to the former Eastern Bloc countries prior to the end of the Cold War, I am always cynical and skeptical when I revisit; because ultimately they seem to pick up the worst of what the West has to offer. The first time I revisited Berlin in 1989 and after “the wall” came down, I was astonished at the change that the eastern section had gone through in a few weeks. But it was not a change that I had expected. Although people seemed happier and eager to move freely back and forth between the two sides of the city; a seedy feeling crept insidiously into the eastern portion of the city: pornography, loud brash music, and filth. Was this the ultimate freedom these people craved for? Why had so many risked their lives for: porn, rap, and Styrofoam? Strangely enough, I did not return until September 2013; when it pained me even more to see how the city had ultimately decided to remember its sacrifices, unification, and freedom. “The wall,” a symbol of tyranny and evil was replaced by Pina Colada stands, and three goofy guys dressed in facsimile military uniforms attempting to lure even dumber tourists to take pictures at Checkpoint Charlie. There were no memorials to speak of, and the total disregard to history’s darkest years was replaced by a vegetarian wrap and a beer! A testimonial to today’s generation of morons bereft of any inclination to bear witness to history unless it means self gratification. “Look at me…standing next to an idiot pretending to be a U.S. Army soldier during the Cold War at Checkpoint Charlie…aren’t I cool?” Let’s “selfie” ourselves into the abyss of total ignorance in a society where clueless is acceptable!

What partially regained my faith and tolerance in today’s society was a brief visit to Budapest (pronounced Buda-pesht), Hungary; an amazing city fraught with history, culture, and energy. It revived itself from the Cold War blow of communism and tyranny to re-launch into one of the most eclectic and fascinating cities in Europe, if not the world. Unlike most of their neighbors to the South, North, and West: Hungarians kept their cultural and philosophical ties to Austria, Italy, France, and Turkey. Hungarians rejuvenated their city and culture by fusing the old and the new with panache and elegance. They maintained self reliance as a mantra for their success which allowed them to thrive while other former East Bloc nations became the new European “carpet beggars.” Music, art, drama, and historical culture remain imbedded and held to high esteem by the old and the young. Budapest reminds us of the grace and the artistic elitist of Paris, but it has the strong heart beat of New York City. Some of us really need to take a good look at how Hungarians accepted tyranny and freedom with resilience, grace, and intelligence; qualities so hard to find in this generation of “tweeters.”

While still enjoying and taking in a wonderful rendition of Tosca at the Budapest Opera House, I was rudely awakened to reality by our young generation and their narcissus opinion of themselves that is not only unattractive, but vulgar, ignorant, and irritatingly dysfunctional. As I walked toward a group of American youth who decided to have their prom in the same hotel I was staying in, profanity hit me in the face like a spit ball. Vulgarity easily rolled off the tongue of a teenage girl nonetheless. Why was I surprised? Where were the chaperones? Come to think of it: where were the parents? Bad enough that we have to endure foul language in our own countries, but do we have to export to foreign soil? Do Chinese kids use foul language? I doubt it because Far Eastern society respects elders and adults. Bringing shame to one’s family may result in death. If that were true in the US, we would have a society without teenagers! Not a bad thought! However, the blame lies squarely on the shoulders of the “let’s give everyone a trophy not to hurt feelings” society. That same week, a mentally warped teenager went on a rampage killing several young adults. His parents blamed guns, the 2^nd amendment, probably even me (if they could), for their son’s mental state. Not a word of their incompetency in raising a child that was mentally deranged. The mother said that she tried. Whatever! It is easier to blame everyone else and of course guns. That is the popular slant to a society without self realization that it takes someone’s finger to pull a trigger. Many people own guns and they do not go on rampages. In Germany, and especially in Bavaria, almost everyone owns a gun for hunting. One rarely hears of young kids going on a rampage. Is it possible that despite a secular social climate in Europe, Europeans still have a strong family unit? Is it possible that European parents have remained the last bastion of discipline in the home and the schools?

I am so sick and tired of being blamed for historical injustices by virtue of my skin color, gender, origin, and religion. So here is goes: to everyone out there with a beef: I was not alive when you were enslaved but I fought for civil rights, I did not reject you when I was a teenager despite your acne I still tried to be your friend, it is not my fault that I was born European, and finally: I will not apologize for being a Christian. So find someone else to tap into with your grievances.

The continual trumped up injustices by idle activism is really beginning to twist my panty hose around my derriere. As I grow older I get more and more exhausted by this generation of whiners and self-absorbed idiots. Even phones have become instruments of self gratification by virtue of the word “selfie.” We now take pictures of ourselves with others, with things, with pets, with statues, and eventually we will realize that our world has shrunk to “me” and we will be taking “selfies” with nothing. This generation is becoming a painful caricature of itself. It is self- absorbed to the point of inane. It is doomed to self destruction because of the inability to cope with life as we know it. We already have teenagers committing suicide because they broke off with their boyfriends and girlfriends. Say what? In our days we changed boyfriends as often as we changed our socks! Going steady meant a week; tops.

Children are now raised thinking that they are gods. Parents bundle them and pad them to death so obviously when they get hurt it becomes a major hurdle in life. Today’s kids cannot handle any pain; emotional or physical. Our generation called them “sissies.” That’s right. These were kids unable to cope with the day to day pains of life. While most of us wore our scars like a badge of honor, “sissies” were coddled and suffocated by their parents who turned them into morons. We wanted to be tough, strong, resilient, and capable. My parents had a tough job raising seven children, but they taught each and every one of us the best lesson in life: pain is relevant to the action we were involved in. If we want to ride a bike or go roller skating we might as well be prepared for the falls and bruises. Basically it was the Forrest Gump philosophy: stupid is as stupid does. I remember the day my father gave me my first bicycle. As he handed me the bike he told me that I had three hours to ride it back to him or it will be put away for good. I managed the three hour deadline. When I rode back to him I was proud of myself and every cut and bruise on my knees and the rest of my body. That day he walked beside me as I rode my new bike back home. It was one of my fondest and proudest memories.

Sometimes as we grow older we cliché’ ourselves into the old “back in our days” routine. We know that not everything was peachy in our days either. I happen to like technology in reasonable doses. However, little things start to irritate those of us climbing the ladder of life, and our tolerance level diminishes with each rung. But I am confident in saying that this generation is trying our patience because whereas our parents mentored, guided, and disciplined us toward a successful and stable life; this generation of parents is leaving parenting up to technology, television, computers, phones, and the rest of us. I hate to tell these parents this: I do not want to raise your brats. To some extent we cannot always blame the urchins for the sins of the moronic parents. My 97-year old mother spends most of her days observing others, because let’s face it at her age entertainment options are limited. When I visit her she fondly recalls her childhood in Hell’s Kitchen, New York City. Life was tough, but she talks about her childhood with clarity and almost pride because she and her siblings managed to survive the Depression, cold New York winters, and as she fondly puts it in her still thick New York accent: “the Irish.” My mother’s resilience may be partly genetic, but it is also inherent to a generation that went to war four times and came back stronger. Her frequent expression when she hears some young twit complaining about their “problem:” “What a fuss! How would she have raised seven kids like I did?” Indeed ma: how?

This week I witnessed the inspiration of three women. No they were not politicians, blowhards, or activists; they were three women over 80 convinced (not hoping, or pining, or morosely wishing) that they are still young and looking forward to the rest of their lives. Hard to imagine, especially when Madison Avenue, pseudo 21^st century Mad Men, and politicians, attempt to make us believe that senior citizens are decrepit and need to spend thousands of dollars on medication just to get through the rest of “as long as I shall live.”

This week, Barbara Walters moved on with her life after what seems to have been a thousand years on the popular morning “kibitz” show called The View. Actually, she was the only lady, (opinionated; yes, but still a lady) on the show that kept sensible conversation without the tirades and shrilly opinions of the rest of the cast. At 84, Barbara Walters crossed all barriers in journalism: interviewing icons like the Shah of Iran, Richard Nixon, Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton (still fresh from Monica’s scent), George W. Bush (bruised by the Iraq debacle), and recently; Barack Obama. There are others of course. However, nothing came easy to her. She recalls the resentment from the “men” in her profession who for many years could not fathom that a woman could be a journalist let alone a famous interviewer. What was amazing about her own interview is her reply to the scathingly provocative question: Do you think there is a War on Women? She swiftly and without batting an eyelash relied unequivocally: NO. She went on to say that in today’s world anyone who works hard regardless of gender should be able to achieve whatever they want because opportunities were abundant. “Work hard” was extrapolated as the many sacrifices she made to get to where she is today. Wow! What a testimonial to those who continually want a handout and have a grievance for everything. I doubt that Barbara Walters was under any special privilege like affirmative action, or even the current inequality mantra that is blowing in the wind of discontent and wanton entitlement. This woman had to fight for everything she wanted and eventually got.

As far away from the excitement of main stream media, major networks, and cable, is a tiny town in Bavaria called Eschenbach. Eschenbach is nestled in the hills close to the U.S. Army’s largest training area outside the United States. This village in Bavaria, predominantly Catholic, holds an annual church fest. Today, amid torrents of rain, chilly temperatures, and dark skies; the village met under dripping tents to celebrate Mass and enjoy some good Bavarian food and music. Sitting down on long beer-hall tables half the village, drank beer, wine, and listened to the “oompha” band donned in Dirndl and Lederhosen. Across from me sat two white-haired gregarious ladies in flowing scarves and smiles that would not quit. What rain, what chills? These two ordered a bottle of wine and sat down to eat a hearty plate of Bavarian ham and “kartoffelsalat” with the gusto and appetite of an acned teenager. When we got down to the conversation, I found out that they were both 90 years old! Just as one of them was lamenting the fact that the pool she swims in for a few hours a week is only warmed up to 17 degrees centigrade, she greets another woman half her age with a smile and a hug, then turns to me to divulge the fact that the young one had been her volley ball partner! Say what? Is this for real? In my humble opinion these two women have always been empowered without any prompting from anyone let alone some young pathetic female activist whose life experience can be summarized in a tweet. I doubt that these two knew what a Planned Parenthood clinic looked like, and moreover, I doubt that they would have ever considered going to one even if one really existed when they were young. These two women took empowerment to another level, one without gloss, activism, empty rhetoric, and fluff! What I would give to be like them at 90! They were the real deal.

Currently the women issues being raised are as futile and empty as Cher’s Botox: smooth but all know that she is old! If women activists are sincerely looking out for women, they would start by respecting all women’s opinions and choices regardless of whether they are politically viable to their agenda. A woman has the right to be either pro-abortion or pro-choice without victimization and labeling. A woman should be able to stay home as a full time mom without some journalist debasing and ridiculing her choice as redundant because she has “never really held a job.” (A journalist remark about Mrs. Romney when she was helping her husband during his election campaign. Mrs. Romney raised five boys!) My 97 year-old mother had seven children and believe me, even Barbara Walters did not work as hard as my mother did. Her bent arthritic hands and fingers are testimonial to the cooking, cleaning, sewing, and nurturing she did. My mother did not go to power lunches, she cooked them. My mother did not have conference calls; her time on the phone was spent calling a doctor because one of us was sick. My mother did not go to Happy Hour with corporate heads; she was too busy making dinner so we may have a Happy Hour as a family. My mother did not carry a Mont Blanc briefcase to work; every day she carried bags full of groceries so we may have fresh produce, meats, and fish. My mother did not go to McDonalds to get a Happy Meal: she made the happy meals. My mother was always there when we woke up, left for school, and came back from school. My mother did not ask for free childcare, free lunches, or welfare. She did not have to because she empowered herself to sacrifice her own dreams to give us ours.

It pains and angers me to listen to pundits and pseudo intellectual activists use the word “war” as an attention grabber to their nebulous cause. War is the ultimate destruction of anything that is decent and good. War destroys, maims, and kills. War leaves families without family. War robs children of their childhood. War shatters dreams, hopes, and destinies. War is not a play on words to soothe egos or justify a warped agenda fraught with self righteousness. War is a bracelet that I wear bearing a soldier’s name on it. War killed that soldier in 2006; and his wife and mother will never experience life the same way ever again. War does not empower anyone; ask a soldier. Those misguided idealists whose lives are surrounded by other sheltered and spoiled elitists make light of the word “war” as a last resort to conveniently accommodate their feeble attempts at entitlement.

Three women over 80 have shown me the true meaning of tenacity, strength, fortitude, and truth. The truth is that as women we only stop ourselves from doing what we want to do. During World War II women took over factories and manufacturing. Where was Sandra Fluke then? Yes, we have had setbacks; and yes we have had to fight for the right to be heard, but now we are heard, so what’s the deal? Why are women still coming across as weepy heroines in despair? Why are these activists bent on diminishing us into a slobbering minority that requires activism? Why are they on one hand shrieking for women’s rights, but on the other hand malign women who do not agree with them? Why do they want to go in combat with their male counterparts but expect allowances for being women? Why do we speak of equality when in affect we demand special treatment? Why are we subjecting ourselves to a group of inane agenda-driven females who are compartmenting women back forty years into the past?

In the early 20^th century, women suffragettes were incarcerated and some killed for daring to ask for the right to vote. These brave women were found on both sides of the Atlantic, and their courage paved the way to the opportunities we enjoy today. They did not demand a handout or an entitlement. They demanded that women be treated respectfully and given credit for their accomplishments. They wanted nothing for free. Are you listening Sandra Fluke? How their sacrifice and pain was somehow morphed in the insidious activism of today is beyond me. If today’s entertainment activists are so bent on making society responsible for the “war on women”; how about going to Iran, Syria, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, or any other society that treats women like crap? Now that’s a thought. But of course they can’t…dah…they would be stoned or worse…killed! So instead, they thrash the last bastion of endless opportunities and possibilities for women; America and the American dream; where one can succeed regardless of gender. How sadly pathetic!

My mother belonged to the June Cleaver generation of women. You know, the women who got married, stayed home, raised their kids, cooked, cleaned, and took care of their husbands. It is a pity that most of this generation does not even know who June Cleaver was. That generation is now held in cynical contempt by the emancipated empowered women of today. My mother had seven children and she hardly had time to go to the bathroom let alone think about emancipation. As a matter of fact I do not remember her going to the bathroom. I only remember my mother in three places: the kitchen, at the sewing machine, or at the washing machine. To be truthful, I do not remember her lounging anywhere in the house either, because for starters we made too much noise for relaxation, and secondly she seemed to flit from one chore to the next. Above all: I never ever heard her complain about her role as a mother and wife. She took that very seriously. That was her vocation in life. She was a career wife and mother.

Did my mother and all the June Cleavers of her time miss out on something extraordinary in life? What have women, mothers to be exact, gain in the past 50 years since June Cleaver put away her pearls and wide skirts? Why do women today feel that they are more empowered than their counterparts of yesteryears? I don’t think that our mothers’ generation felt that they were missing out on anything because they did not expect or feel entitled to more than what they had. To this generation that would be grounds for a Hollywood uproar and activist fund raiser; but to my mother it was a chore of love. What this generation of pseudo intellectual women does not understand is that my mother and others of her ilk were proud women who made darn sure that their domain: the house, the kids, and the husband were taken care of as best if not better than any other woman on the block. They had pride in their roles as mothers and wives. They ruled the kitchen, the children, and in a covert way: the husband, with determination.

Why do young women today find the role of “mother” so burdensome? How can they on one hand go out of their way to remember Mother’s Day with all its pomp and circumstance and at the same time regard “motherhood” often as a curse? What has pushed women into a distorted role equally submissive to the ones that the women’s movement ardently and fervently fought against 50 years ago? Are women truly liberated, or have they morphed into another level of entrapment: one misguided by activists who inadvertently put more stress and burden on today’s women? It is true that when we were young most of our ambitions were centered on marriage: finding the right provider and father to our kids. Then entered the women’s movement: deriding women who chose marriage and bringing into the forefront the importance of emancipation and the liberation of women; as they prescribed it. We all jumped on that band wagon because it sure sounded good. We can have it all. Pollyanna? We were told that we could be mothers, wives, career women, and do everything in between that we wanted and desired because we could. We were the new Amazonians. Really? Eventually women evolved into a caricature of themselves. Gone was the pride in the home, and eventually even raising children became a burden. The incongruous message given to women is that motherhood is their right, but heaven forbid anyone telling them that they should be responsible for their own kids and not burden society in the process: then we would be waging a war on women. What a load of rubbish!

This generation of women is supposed to be the most educated, intellectual, self-reliant, and self-efficient. Yet the current cry of female dissent is wanting the tax payers to take care of their life choices. The Sandra Flukes of this world, who are supposedly on their way to becoming the next generation of empowered women, publicly bemoan that they have a right to free contraception. Would you believe the uproar if a man went public asking the government to give him Viagra? Why does this generation of woman demand a pass on behavior that is self-centered and petty? My mother did not expect society to take care of her seven kids. She did not ask for hand outs, and she did not expect to have “it all” either. She and others of her generation had the good sense and without a graduate degree to know that no one regardless of gender can accomplish everything in life simultaneously and do it well. Something or someone will eventually lose out and suffer.

My beef is with the various women activist groups who betray their sisters by propagandizing and glorifying egoistic traits as liberation. I do not enjoy listening to any activist whatever genre of political rhetoric he or she expounds because by definition “activism” is “…support or opposition of to one side of a controversial issue…” (Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, Tenth Edition). The phrase “one side” says it all. To these people there is only one side to their argument, which makes any opposing opinion or view irrelevant. Yet, women activists have attempted to make motherhood, conception, children, and marriage irrelevant. This irrelevancy is now the driving force behind the many children living with a single parent or no parents. These children are missing out on nuclear families that give stability. These children’s only template of an adult life is forged in their own fragmented lives. Young girls are eagerly looking for role models to emulate toward success. If their own mothers are absent how are they going to grow with a sense of who they are or should be as women? Who will be shaping their future? Beyonce? The women activists; who go after inane issues like eradicating the word “bossy” because it stigmatizes little girls? Do these women really have a life? Do they come up with this rubbish for the sake of having something to say or do? Have these groups lost or credence for women? They have for me, because I find them totally detached from reality and brain activity.

My 97 year-old mother lived in a shelter underground during World War II. She managed to raise my oldest sister and survive the Luftwaffe blitz. I doubt that at any time during a bombing she questioned abilities as a woman. She was too worried about having enough food and surviving another air raid. Generally women with guts and fortitude worry substance not fluff. Yes, my mother was the June Cleaver generation, where being a mother meant something special. Where raising the next generation of children was given priority over everything else. My mother was and has remained the best example of women’s strength and tenacity. She has remained true to herself, her faith, her life, our father, and us. Did she miss out on emancipation? I will ask her the next time I visit.

I have just read an interesting editorial lamenting the fact that this generation has lost its capacity to communicate verbally and personally. They are letting their fingers do the talking. I am old enough to actually remember the Yellow Pages slogan of “Let your fingers do the talking.” It was only meant to imply that the thick Yellow Pages book of registered telephone numbers could get you the party you wanted to talk to. In those days “talking” meant the exercise of actually moving one’s lips to transfer one’s thoughts verbally and preferably to someone else. What a concept! The editorial mentioned a very sad example of generational disconnect whereupon a young lady was given a “Dear John” message through a phone text. How chivalrous of the man to break off the relationship without having to look at the girl’s face or feel her broken heart! How convenient that we can now hurt others just by letting “our fingers doing the talking.”

Texting seems to be the communication medium of choice for this generation. Acronyms replace words, and the dispatching of shortened messages and codes replace any emotional attachment to the message. “Leaving you for another man…LOL” This generation has turned emotion, passion, good behavior, good manners, and courage; into a cynical detached connection that lets the sender remain cocooned into a comfort zone, whereas the receiver is given an instant cold shower of bad news with a click of a finger. This dispassionate way of communicating is isolating our society into a robotic-like generation that lost all sense of empathy and compassion. This is the “me” generation where if “I” am okay, then the world is good. Eons ago or so it seems, corporations discovered that when employees work as a team good things happen; the adage “there is no ‘I’ in the word Team” became all the rage. What the cliché implied was that success happens when people openly work and communicate toward a defined end. Is it then logical to conclude that this generation has lost its ability to define successful goals? Are people so disenchanted with themselves and the rest of society that they would rather retreat to technological comfort rather than human contact? Are we reverting back in time to a species who only communicated through sounds and clicks? The Neanderthals did it. They eventually grunted their way out of the Ice Age.

The above mentioned editorial wanted to get across the psychological impact that this detached communication will have on this generation as it grows older. We require relevant social contact or we will retreat into a world of unrealistic expectations and disappointments. We also require an accumulative library of memories that shape who we are through what we remember as who we were. Memories good or bad give us a compass and direction to our life. Bad memories of equally bad experiences generally make us stronger and determined to overcome challenges. Good memories give us the assurance that life can be good and successful. Both are equally important to a balanced state of mind. However, memories are made through personal connections and relationships. One must physically and tangibly connect with another to maintain the emotion and resiliency of that memory. I remember my childhood and what my parents taught me because they SPOKE to me. They did not text me to tell me that I was grounded. They did not text me to tell me that they loved me.

Missing out on human and social contact synthesizes people from experiencing intrinsic emotions they would rather not participate in. Texting someone to tell them bad news lets you off the hook in possibly having to witness someone else’s pain. It is a cop out. Is that the real reason for such blatant detachment? Have we arrived at a time and place where we can choose the kind of reality we want to be in? Is texting a way to limit our exposure to emotional attachment in an attempt and hope of sparing ourselves the pain of rejection? Are we raising a generation of pseudo zombies who prefer their technological reality to ours? Is our generation to blame for escapism in today’s society? Have we screwed up the past so much that our present generation would rather live in a technological bubble than a physical reality?

Our generation was the nuclear and Cold War generation. As we were growing up we still faced the realities of World War II and Vietnam. We listened to radio and eventually got hooked on television. Was that too much reality for us? Perhaps; however we also had parents who were home when we got back from school, made us sit at table for dinner every evening, and television was only allowed until bed time and when homework was satisfactorily completed; which meant that half of us rarely ever watched anything. Yet, we were also raised to be resilient to growing pains; to build strong characters. We all had bullies at school, and those who wore glasses were taunted. However, I do not remember any of us contemplating suicide or taking guns to school because of it. Maybe our technological naiveté served us well because we seemed happier than kids today.

My mother is 97 years old, and although her short term memory is shaky, she remembers her childhood as if it were yesterday. She can talk for hours about her childhood in Manhattan and Hell’s Kitchen. She can still remember friends and the neighborhood that stretched from 47^th west into 50^th where she went to school and eventually graduated. She remembers events and people with a smile and sometimes an awkward pause, but those memories are a viable part of who she is through who she was. Without them she would be just a hollow old body. Is technology depriving our youth from having fond memories of people and conversations? How will this generation’s long term memory materialize when they reach old age? The last time I visited my mother at the seniors’ home, we noticed a young woman multi-tasking as she attempted to text and listen to her 90 year-old grandmother at the same time. Needless to say the old lady was the only one who participated in that conversation; the granddaughter acknowledged with a nod and a grunt. What a pity, that granddaughter missed out on a memory that she will never regain. I felt like sending her a text: OMG get a life…LOL!