As a divorced woman in a small town, it’s a rare event
for me to be invited anywhere. So, of course when the girls and I were invited
to a neighborhood potluck, I RSVPed. It should be a positive experience and an
opportunity for the girls to expand their (as well as my) social circle.
The girls stuck by me as we ate. “I don’t know anybody
here,” my eldest complained. “I don’t know many people here either, but that’s
how you get to meet people,” I replied.
Later on, after my encouragement, the twins went and
introduced themselves to another girl close to their age. My eldest later
decided to play with them, since she wasn’t interested in video game playing.
I wandered over to a table of adults, who welcomed me
to sit down. I spent some time listening. One of the guests talked to me
briefly and the host did go out of his way to say a few encouraging words.
Later on, the hostess stated to a friend her theory
that children of artists see art differently than other children, since they
see the business side of it. That may be true, but in my mind they would also
see the fulfillment of creating, which most people in our world have lost.
Just a sideline into “who is an artist”: Last night
made me understand what Sinclair Lewis was saying in “Work of Art.” Art can be
in any profession, as long as the person has passion, conviction and soul-fulfillment
in what they do. One does not have to have the word “Artist” stamped to their
forehead to be one. {Regarding Lewis’ work, don’t take this comment as a
recommendation to read “Work of Art” unless you want to get lost into the minutia
details of hotel management and hollandaise sauce.}
The kids all played and enjoyed themselves. At one
point, the group of boys ran outside to a nearby park. The adults all mused, “Boys
will be boys.”
I noticed the tree swing keeping busy the whole
evening. Several boys were swinging on it wildly. The adults didn’t seem to
notice. Later on, one of my twins was on there, twisting around. I walked over
and told her to not twist the chain, it could wreck the swing. I went back to
the table. After a short while, I heard the hostess state, “Somebody should
parent that child.” Sure enough, it was one of the twins.
I walked over and told the girls we needed to go, since
she didn’t listen to me regarding how she was swinging on the swing. My eldest
defended her sisters stating, “The boys were doing that earlier.” The twins
were merely entertaining their new friends by creating skits and filming it
with their new cameras. {In typing this sentence, the true absurdity of the
situation astounds me; the artist’s yard is not some place to play wildly and
create skits.}
Of course, being raised by my parents, last night I was
embarrassed and this morning I was slightly ticked off. Now, I see the humor.
I realize I need to offer others understanding and
patience. This mother in a few years will have a better understanding of the
repression girls go through in the local school system. She’ll have to deal
with things such as I and other moms have. My girls coming home from
kindergarten upset; the boys said that they couldn’t be superheroes because “there
are no girl superheroes.” So many times girls aren’t called on in math class
(even though my eldest is the best math student in her grade). The middle
school girl who asked for a flyer to sign up for baseball and the male teacher refuses
to give her one. {Fortunately, she was smart enough to outwait him and pull one
from the garbage.}
Life isn’t fair sometimes. Life can be repressive for
girls and women. I’m looking for ways to encourage all of us (no matter our
race, creed or gender) to build each other up, and encourage peace, love and
creativity. It’s time to take down the barriers. Who’s with me?
