I looked around the table. There were at least fifty women there, and no men. It was a party for a close friend and everyone had gathered to champion her kindnesses to each of us, her inspiration, and her dedication to her craft. It was interesting to observe and speculate about the make up of the group.
The women were made up of at least three generations. The old gals were in their eighties, barely hanging on to the few strands of hair they had left on their heads. These women were mostly stay-at-home moms who took part time work after their kids were grown. They got married because they wanted to have sex. They usually had a passel of four or five kids. They didn’t have long careers and depended on their husbands in traditional roles.
The next generation were women in their sixties who had worked as a matter of course. Many of them went to college with the intent of working in the acceptable fields for women. They got jobs to help their families have a better quality of life. They would be retiring after long careers in education, business, nursing, or social services.
The youngest group of women were in their thirties. They were determined to do it all by themselves if necessary. Many of them were either postponing child bearing or in the process of declining the opportunity. These serious minded women would take full advantage of the social progress their mothers and grandmothers fought for in terms of sexual equality. They were in charge of their own bodies, their own minds, and their own futures. Maybe they didn’t need a man?
There were lots of stories and quite a few tears as the women went around the table sharing memories and laughs. Everyone there remembered a time when they were helped or rescued by the lady in question. She listened to all their stories and helped each of them in turn with her patient care and pampering.
They knew her stories too. They talked as women do when men are not near. They told each other stories about sex and childbirth, health issues and money problems, marriages and divorce. They told dirty jokes and laughed until they almost peed. They laughed and cried together for all those many years until they became like a circle of sisters.
When two men showed up dressed in baseball uniforms, I was sure we would be on the receiving end of some YMCA Magic Mike fantasy, but no such luck. They weren’t the strippers we all supposed them to be, but two errant husbands showing up after their company baseball game looking to cash in on some free chips and salsa. Damn! That would have been fun! Maybe next year?
(First published 5/12/13)
