Betty, Coretta, My Daughters and Me

To say that I admire the women of my mother's generation is an understatement. They were the girls born in the twenties, raised during the Depression, worked in factories during World War II, and raised families for the next twenty years. From my point of view as a child, they were competent and mostly happy but appearances are deceiving.

My mom was widowed when she was thirty. In 1954 it wasn't the norm to raise children alone. She was the only mom on our block who worked outside the home. She worked every day and never saw me making a fool out of myself as a cheerleader. Neither did she attend school programs held in the afternoon. She was happiest baking on Saturday and going to her parents' home on Sundays for dinner and conversation with her mother. There was no family leave, no job sharing, no equal work for equal pay.

I'm reminded this week of the courage of women who were of Mom's generation. Betty Friedan wrote "The Feminine Mystique" in the late fifties and became the hero of several generations of young women seeking their own potential. She spoke of her own mother's unhappiness and lack of choices as inspiration for her work. Friedan died last week but her spirit carries on.

I caught a snippet of a talk Oprah Winfrey gave last week about Coretta Scott King. She closed by describing Mrs. King's efforts to make the world a better place for Afircan American women than the one her own mother faced. I was surprised by how those words touched me. Mrs. King personified dignity, as far as I'm concerned. Her example as a wonam of courage and tenacity will live on as well.

The mother-daughter relationship is profound and complicated. Hopefully, we are inspired by our mothers, whether we aspire to be like them or to be nothing like them. I ache for my mother's sad life but I'm powerless to change it. I can only make choices in my life, aspire to dignity and honesty and meaning.

I'm a daughter, a mother to two daugters, and a grandmother to a baby girl. My daughters are college graduates and support themselves. I'm so proud of them that tears are coming as I write. I fully expect them to make lives for themselves even though I've never supported myself or lived alone in my life. Okay, I'm a hypocrite but my trust in them is well placed. I have the advantage of knowing their great-grandmothers who were strong and loving women.

I celebrate five generations of women. It's an honor to be the link between those who came before and those who were born to me and my children.

Small Town Living

I live in a small town on the Columbia River west of I-5. You might say we live off the beaten path. Most of the time living off the path is just fine with me but it has its disadvantages.

The hiway between our town and civilization east of here is the most beautiful drive you can imagine. For several miles the drive is right along one of the most spectacular rivers in the world. The hiway is between the river and high cliffs to the north. The drive, though beautiful, is often treacherous. Rain soaked cliffs release rocks onto the road and deer and elk often cross the road at night.

Over the weekend several large rock slides closed the road to Longview and the estimated time to fix the road is uncertain. The only way to drive east of here is to take the Puget Island Ferry or to drive to Astoria and cross the bridge at Megler. A forty-five minute drive has become a half-day experience either waiting two to three hours for the ferry or adding an extra three hours a day for the drive around to the Oregon side of the river.

People in my town are amazing. They have found creative methods to accomplish the commute. My stepson and stepdaughter are leaving their cars on either side of the river, walking onto the ferry and using each other's cars on the other side. The county commissioners have established a shuttle service from Cathlamet to the ferry and bus service to Longview several times a day on the other side of the river.

The most amazing thing is that I've heard very little complaining. Poeple are extrordinarily inconvenienced, yet they continue to get to work with little grumbling. We may have been able to put this into perspective because a woman from Kalama was killed by a falling tree last Saturday on her way to Cathlamet for a basketball tournament. What's a little inconvenience compared to her family's shock and sadness?

Still, I have to pay homage to my freinds and neighbors who have risen to the occasion, to the Sheriff's office for thier professional and effective service, to the delivery people who have added hours to their day to deliver food, drugs and other vital products, and to each person who has tried to make the best of the situation.