Gender Equality: Where Should the Buttons Go?

With the 4^th grandchild due at the end of July, I wanted to knit something for him/her to wear home from the hospital.   I selected gender-neutral light mint cotton yarn that came complete with the pattern and three little duck buttons. As I began finishing it, I realized I couldn’t make the buttonholes or sew on the buttons.   Placement of these items is determined by sex: buttons on girls/womens’ clothes go on the left and for boys/men, on the right.

Puzzled about the origin of yet another difference between men and women, I did some reading.

It all dates back to military uniforms and the assumption that most people are right-handed.  Men carried their shield in their left hands, leaving the right hand free to wield a sword. Having clothing fold over from the left, protected warriors from being stabbed through slits in the right.  Women, not yet allowed in combat, and presumably protected by men, also tended to have maids to help them dress and button them up. These right-handed servants, facing the garment to be buttoned, could complete the task quicker with the buttons on the left side.

Yet fashion and the military have changed since the days of knights in armor.  Women in the military need to be equally protected as men. Most people- men and women- don’t have servants helping them dress.

For sure the women’s movement has more important things to worry about, but maybe it’s time to lobby for all buttons to be on the right.

Babies, of course, don’t dress themselves. Perhaps I’ll just put the buttons on the left.

Maine Moments

We spent a few days on the Maine coast, biking and hiking. Crisp cool air, wildflowers, water everywhere, and lobster.  Every town has a library,  a post office, more than one bookstore, a bike shop, and a yarn store featuring hand-dyed yarn spun from local sheep and alpaca.

Summer Invasions: Cicadas & Geese

My grandson got out the car and covered his ears with his hands. “What’s that noise?” he asked. Then he answered, “I think it’s a monster waking up.” We’ve been reading the myth about Papagayo, the noisy parrot whose raucous cries disturb the nocturnal animals that sleep during the day. Only when Papagayo figures out how to protect the creatures from the ferocious moon-dog that eats a part of the moon each night do the others accept him.  

No, it wasn’t the moon-dog. We showed him the cause: the cicadas, which haven’t yet dug themselves out in their part of New Jersey.  Like Papagayo, these insects, large like locusts, red-eyed and crunchy underfoot, make noise. Lots and lots of it.

Just last week, before the short spring jumped into summer, before I’d succumbed to air conditioning, I’d woken one morning, convinced that there was some motor inadvertently left on, some water tap running. Or perhaps the town was engaged in a drainage project, causing this constant headache producing sound.  Then I realized; the cicadas had arrived. 

(Cicada on front step)

These pesky critters come out about every 17 years. The males serenade potential mates with this song, an incessant insect opera. They’re harmless to humans and even beneficial to trees, aerating the soil.

While the sound  makes me a bit crazy, others don’t seem to mind. One guest at our family party, a city dweller, found the sound “soothing.” And another liked it more than crickets. (I’ll take crickets any day.)

What I do like about the cicada phenomenon is that it’s a part of nature.  Their appearance creates an excuse to learn more about them; and they’re fascinating.

I’d spent the week before reading about geese; particularly the affect of geese poop. We’d heard that the community association that manages our lake in Pennsylvania had permission to reduce the geese population by shooting them. The geese, and mainly their abundance of poop, were overtaking some areas of the community.   We imagined residents bringing out their firearms, gathering lakeside and having a shooting party. Our neighbors there dubbed it “goosecaust.”  Alarmed, I made a few phone calls. Yes, it was true.  They had received permission to shoot no more than 10 geese to cull the population.  Members of the maintenance crew conducted the hunt in the early morning hours. After this year, the state Fish & Game folks return and re-evaluate the situation. The lake board was also allowed to find the geese nests and shake the eggs, essentially aborting the gosling fetuses.  (animals.nationalgeographic.com)

Geese not only mate for life, they return to same place every year after migrating. So these geese that were being shot were locals, many born there.  They can live about 24 years.  We love waking to their honking as they swoop from the air, gliding on the water. We love seeing the babies, like fuzzy yellow tennis balls, being herded by their watchful parents in and out of the water.  We don’t even mind when they arrive at dusk, alight from the water onto our lawn to eat. And poop. Every day, geese eat about four pounds of grass and produce nearly two pounds of poop.

Therein lies the problem.  Inhaled or ingested, goose feces could cause health problems. Too much of it in the lake could affect the water.  A bit calmer, I conceded that managing the geese population isn’t so bad. As a federally protected species, geese can’t be shot by the average gun owner from his/her home’s front porch.

Yet when I kayak past an outcropping of granite, covered in shrubs, that my kids dubbed “Goose Crap Rock” years ago, I shudder a bit. I don’t like the idea of killing the birds.  I’ve joked about bottling the lake water, convinced the goose poop infusions make the best hair conditioner ever.

A message from our neighbor cheered us:  This afternoon I counted 16 survivors happily swimming in Spruce Lake-7 adults and 9 babies– Go nature!

Now if they’d only munch on some cicadas….

Seven Myths about Teachers

Myth #1:  They work from 9-3 and have summers off.

Facts: They arrive early and stay late. They go home and grade papers, plan lessons, make things to use in class.  They work in the summer and take classes too.

Myth # 2: During state tests, after reading the instructions, they sit at their desks, reading magazines.

Facts: They become security guards, on their feet for hours, monitoring students for cheating and other possible behaviors that could jeopardize the school’s test results.

Myth # 3: They assume all students arrive to school well-fed and ready to learn.

Facts: Many teachers share or giveaway their lunches, give students money to buy lunch. They understand some kids haven’t eaten anything.

 Myth #4: They assume students have warm clothes, a quiet place to do homework, nutritious family dinners, and set bedtimes.

Facts: None of the above. Teachers give students coats and sweaters. They know many kids are out all hours of the night, shuffled between caregivers to accommodate parents’ work schedules.  They know dinner for many students is fast food, often eaten alone.

Myth #5:  They assume kids are healthy, physically, emotionally and mentally.

Facts: From administering an EpiPen to responding to epileptic seizures, teachers have to know much more than applying a Band-Aid to a paper cut. They are nurses, social workers, therapists, moms and dads.

Myth #6: They like to confiscate students’ possessions, like toys and phones.

  Facts: Having to take things from students is a huge distraction from teaching.  When the objects include knives and other possible weapons, it’s hard for other students and teachers to concentrate on the day’s lessons.

Myth # 7: They assume students know what to do in an emergency; after all, they’ve been practicing fire drills since kindergarten.

Facts: During tornadoes, teachers hide kids in closets; during bomb threats they escort them to safety; and during assaults from automatic weapons, they take bullets.

Next time your town’s school budget comes up for a vote, or your teachers’ contracts are up for renewal, think about these myths. And the facts.

My sister Madeline, a great teacher.

Book Briefs: Let Summer Reading Begin!

A recent Facebook post by my sister Madeline:

So for the class I’m taking, I have to write a 5-page review of a book! A book review should be 5 sentences, NOT five PAGES!! Bring on the B.S, I suppose…

Earlier this month, she’d posted:

Finished: The End Of Your Life Book Club By Will Schwalbe. I really liked it. Am now reading : Round House by Louise Erdrich – only a chapter or so in and also really like! Not officially summer yet but let the reading begin!!

A blogger I follow, Grandmalin, recently wrote short reviews of books she didn’t care for that much.  Reading her pithy descriptions, I got a good idea about the books.

I’m not a big fan of long book reviews.   A line or two about the plot usually can tell me whether it’s for me. Sometimes I read a book because I’ve read the author before, but that’s no guarantee I’ll like the next book.

Here’s some titles that might interest you:

Tom’s River by Dan Fagin. Science, journalism, history, Cancer clusters, politics. Every New Jersey resident should read this – and anyone concerned about industrial waste and political cover-ups.  (non-fiction)

My Name is Mary Sutter: A Novel by Robin Oliveira. Midwifery & romance in the Civil War, medical history and some graphic descriptions of surgery. Great read.

The Last Runaway by Tracy Chevalier.  Set in Oberlin, Ohio, this is a great Civil War story. Another Chevalier triumph. 

The Seventh Gate by Richard Zimler.  A German girl befriends Jews and other outcasts in pre-war Germany. Strange romance yet compelling.

The Inheritance by Simon Tolkien. Grandson of J.R.R. (Lord of the Rings, etc.). British murder-mystery, secret codes and medieval artifacts. We listened to this on audio- 10 CDs- perfect for the drive to and from Ohio. Terrific story, read by the author.

Yip Harburg: Legendary Lyricist and Human Rights Activist  by Harriet Hyman Alonso.  The guy who gave the world Wizard of Oz, Finian’s Rainbow, and hundreds of songs. Delightful portrait. I read it on my ebook.

Started but dropped:
Mrs. Lincoln’s Dressmaker by Jennifer Chiaverini.  Maybe I’d had enough of this time period. Dull.

The Storyteller by Jodi Picoult. I’ve read lots of her books and have liked many, though she does seem a bit formulaic. This one, her first one involving a Holocaust survivor and former SS officer in hiding, didn’t work for me.

On the night table:
How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia by Mohsin Hamid. A birthday present. Told in 2^nd person as a self-help book. Intriguing so far. 

City of Women by David R. Gillham. His debut novel set in wartime Berlin. Recommended by local bookstore.

My iPad mini by Gary Rosenqweig. Picked it up at Costco. Hopefully will help me navigate the device so I do more than read or play Scrabble.

On the ebook:
Marmee & Louisa: The Untold Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Mother by Eve LaPlante. What can be bad about a mother/daughter story and the person behind Little Women’s Marmee?  

 

Happy Summer Reading! What’s on your list?

Graduates: Show Courage

It’s graduation season and with that, commencement speeches. Two recent speeches have resonated with me so far this spring.

President Obama, addressing the Atlanta, Georgia- based Morehouse College, a historically all-black male school founded after the Civil War, invoked Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, Morehouse,’48.

  “…he taught a nation to be unafraid.  And over the last 50 years, thanks to the moral force of Dr. King and a Moses generation that overcame their fear and their cynicism and their despair, barriers have come tumbling down, and new doors of opportunity have swung open, and laws and hearts and minds have been changed to the point where someone who looks just like you can somehow come to serve as President of these United States of America…”

Reading his speech this morning,  I thought of the film, 42, the biographical sports film about baseball player Jackie Robinson, the first African American to break the baseball color barrier win 1946 when he joined the Montreal Royals and later played for the Brooklyn Dodgers.

Had Robinson opted to stay in the Negro Baseball League, his life might have been a lot easier. Subjected to humiliating racial taunts from opponents, teammates, and baseball fans, he refused to become angry or fight back. He won people over by his athletic prowess, by winning for his team.

As President Obama reminded the Morehouse men, “…Every one of you have a grandma or an uncle or a parent who’s told you that at some point in life, as an African American, you have to work twice as hard as anyone else if you want to get by…”   The President urged the graduates to set an example, help others, and work for justice.  He praised the school’s legacy of “Men who refuse to be afraid…”

Courage.   And that’s what New York City Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg, asked the 410 graduates at Kenyon College, in Gambier, Ohio, Saturday, to show. He advocated that they continue to learn, to work hard, and to exhibit courage.  “…Have the courage to act on your hopes; don’t be paralyzed by your fears. Have the courage to think for yourself and to believe in your ideas. That kind of courage lies at the heart of human invention and progress – and the lack of it lies at the heart of our political problems today…” 

Courage, he said, is needed to fight for gun control, to fight for gay marriage rights, to affect climate change, and to close the academic achievement gap.

Ruminating on these speeches, I thought of two recent incidents.

A gorgeous Sunday a couple weeks ago,  I joined my cycling friends on rural roads in New Jersey. I had to leave the ride early for an afternoon commitment, so missed this event, captured here.  I’m not sure I’d have been as composed as my friends, when they were told by a passerby to get off “his” road.  I admire how they, mostly African Americans, don’t let someone’s moronic attitudes ruin their day.

And ironically, the evening after Mayor Bloomberg gave his speech about courage, a gay man, Mark Carson, was murdered at gunpoint in NYC’s Greenwich Village, target of a hate crime. Attacks against gays have increased in recent months in NYC; a suspect has been charged.   One can only wonder if a background check for this obviously troubled man, who had a criminal record, could have prevented this murder.

Courage, indeed. Our graduates need lots of it.

Peace Corps Postcard #3: Where’s Warren?

What makes any experience memorable are the people you meet. My parents are still in touch with several people they met while serving in the Peace Corps. My mother, a justice of the peace, has officiated at a few weddings and they receive cards and letters annually from many.

Here’s the last story by my mother about one of their friends.

Where’s Warren?
By Barbara W. Klein

One was never alone when Warren was around. He was there if you were homesick, lonely, or just had a bad day. A fellow volunteer and in his 50’s, Warren had served in the Air Force and the ministry, Warren could make us chuckle when we’d least expect it.

For example, the directors of our “Stage” training program, Patty and Bill, were often challenging to cope with. They were aptly, though politely, renamed by Warren, “Batty and Pill”. When I was having a dinner party, Warren was right there with his own shopping basket, to help me carry the provisions to my house. He organized volley ball games and emceed the talent show.

Warren roomed with seven other volunteers and organized spaghetti dinners for about 40 people- 30 or so volunteers, staff members, and a few of the residents of the town. It was customary for guests to bring something when visiting. Every “hanut”, or grocery store, was stripped of melons, bottles of soda and loaves of bread. People brought salads, home made relishes, and desserts. We all provided our own dinnerware, issued by the Peace Corps.

When he completed his Peace Corp service, Warren visited us in Connecticut.  We hiked through the woods of Killingworth and then had dinner at home, cooking together. I still use his recipe for sweet potato pie with cognac and pecans.

We contacted each other for a while, and as things go, lost touch. Marty and I tried to locate Warren with no success.

Warren B. Skinner, where are you hiding?

###

My parents completed their training in September and were sworn in as Peace Corps volunteers. However, there wasn’t an assignment available for them. In many ways it was a mixed blessing. In each of my mother’s letters, she wrote about how much they missed everyone. She’d close her letters, “kiss the monkeys,” referring to my sons. Rereading them, I could tell how homesick they were. Yet I knew how committed they were to helping others. They truly believe the proverb: “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.” With them it was chickens and eggs. They continued volunteering: as Vista volunteers in Hartford, CT, (they could live at home), and many trips abroad with private foundations that organized service projects, usually for a month at a time. They’ve been to more than 50 countries.

An excerpt is from my father’s letter:
… The other day we had a sandstorm. It was 130° F and the winds came off the desert; it was like a blast furnace… We went on a drive through the mountains to Siliana, a small farming community. We were in this small bus and the driver was crazy. We were all scared except your mother. She was perfectly relaxed. Can you believe she was knitting?…

…Before we left I knew I would miss you all but never realized how much. The pictures of J & N were adorable and I really think about them a lot which makes it very, very difficult. I just wish some mornings that they would come into the room and jump on me…

Warren Skinner’s SWEET POTATO PIE

Boil or bake sweet potatoes until barely soft. Peel. Mash with 1/2  cup brown sugar and a few chips of butter. Add a fistful of raisins, chopped nuts, and 1Tbs cognac.   Pour into pan and swirl the top of the potatoes. Decorate with whole or half nuts. Pecans are good.  Drizzle honey into the swirls. Bake at 300 degrees, F. for 20 to 25 minutes.

PEACE CORPS YOGURT CAKE  

4 eggs, 3 oz. butter, 1 & 1/2 C plain or vanilla yogurt, 2 tsp. vanilla, 4 & 1/2 c. flour. Chopped figs, or raisins, prunes, dates, apricots, 1 and 1/2 c. sugar                                                      2 tsp. baking powder   Mix. Pour into greased and floured baking pan. Bake medium heat for one hour. (350)   Variations: Add juice from 2 oranges, and grated rind of one. Or use lemon yogurt, juice and grated rind.

My mother sent me photos of Warren and of my father and her at the swearing –in. Unfortunately,  they seem to have gotten lost in the mail. If they resurface, I’ll post them.