three tall women

Today we visit the Burke, a long awaited adventure, canceled more than once. It's an exhibit of Antarctica that lures us in. Mom, Jennifer, Lorna and I learn all kinds of interesting facts like--the ice at Antarctica is 2 miles thick. Or, summer in the Antarctic is October through February. Or, 250,000 million years ago the Antarctic was vegetated with ferns and beech tress--incredible! Or, it hasn't precipitated in Dry Valley, Antarctic for two million years--neither snow or rain. We look at photographs of penguins. The King penguins are our favorite, bushy brown creatures with hair cascading their bodies like Cousin It. We touch whale bones. We goggle butterflies and moths. After looking at one particularly intriguing specimen, Jennifer says to Mom--"Can you say this twice Dorin--hawk moth hawk moth." We all giggle, as the "k" and the "m" get stuck on Jennifer's tongue. It's a tongue twist. We all give it a try, our mouths opening and shutting like guppies groping for our next feeding.

Two hours later, we sit exhausted in the Burke Museum Cafe. Craning our necks while strolling between displays seems to take the energy out of us. It's been years since I've been here. Not since college days. I don't remember the lush wood paneling, a loan from the department of architecture, the placard reads. Eighteenth-century French. The panels are waxed pine with murals that appear to be Fragonard or Watteau look-a-likes. We all order hot drinks as we admire the murals--Mom and Lorna get cocoa, I get Chamomile tea and Jennifer gets coffee.

"Have you experienced discrimination in the work workforce?" I ask Jennifer. We've been talking about woman and work and in particular about sexism in the workplace--topics my students have been grappling with this week in class. I explain how many of the young women in my classes have no experience with sexism in the workforce, and hence don't see the need for structural and social changes to promote an equal playing field for working women, particular working women with marriages, families. One student offered the experience of her aunt, saying--"She made it as a partner in her law firm, so other women can do it too."

Jennifer doesn't answer my question but says this, revealing her philosophy about the workplace--"Women need to seize power and bend it to their own purposes." Jennifer's a take charge woman--driven and successful. I admire what she's made of herself. Her comment brings to mind the age old dilemma concerning how to effect change in the world--work within the structure via current power relations or work outside the structure, trying to dismantle power relations. Jennifer's method promises individual success at the expense of reinforcing the strictures that produce discrimination to begin with. I decide not to mention this.

"It seems generational," I add. Women at the turn of the twentieth century didn't expect to 'have it all', referring to the expectation in 2009 that women can raise a family and have a meaningful career. Jennifer herself is thinking of getting pregnant, but she chooses not to disclose this.

Mom's been following our words, her head bobbling back and forth between Jennifer and me. Just when the conversation's getting interesting, Jennifer notices the time--Larry will be out front waiting for us.

I hear a sigh fall from Mom's direction--"Haaaaaaaaaa..." she says. We all turn to look at her. "Can't we...can't we go on...you know...with this?"

Wow, I think to myself, Mom still has her thinking brain, buried somewhere inside the coffin of her body. We've been having just the kind of conversation Mom would have relished in the past, when her tongue said what she thought.

"Sure," I say back to Mom. "We can talk about this later, next time we meet."

Mom nods her head "Yes" as we gather our coats and umbrellas to leave.

Back at the Mirabella, I can't resist returning to the topic of marriage and family. We have an hour before dinner, so I ask Mom--"Why didn't you marry again, after Dad died?"

Instead of a direct answer, she tilts her head back and croons--"Crazy!"

"What...crazy to marry?" I ask her.

Lorna spreads wide her arms and says--"Want to be freeeeeeeee."

All three of us laugh at this. It's a loud, knowing kind of sound that escapes between us. Like a whistle or a bell. Requires no explanation.

"But you're glad you married, right Mom?"

Mom doesn't answer and instead adds--"Never a time...you know...when I felt...just can't go on."

Mom's answer is startling, not what I expect. From the outside looking in, my parent's marriage seemed precarious, particularly in the years right before my father died--all the traveling he did, all the lonliness he suffered, alchohol his only refuge. Surely he must have felt this, not being able to "go on." I think of my own marriage, how there were more than a few times when I thought I "just can't go on." And yet somehow you do, that is until the day you don't.

"The one thing he was..." Mom continues, "when we ...when he and I weren't wonderfully happy...the thing...the thing was...maybe he'd like to be somewhere else...start over again."

"What do you mean Mom?"

"He'd never....never....you know...leave."

Never is a big word, not something I'd use in relation to another human, not even my father. People surprise me, continually, and usually not for the better. That my father returned each weekend, after a week of being on the road to Houston or Dallas or Denver always amazed me. I wondered why he came home, what there was about home that he needed. What happened to my parents? What happened to those years when they stayed up late and drank coffee far into the night, laughing, sharing confidences?

Three Tall Women--a favorite play of mine. Women who stayed in difficult marriages. Two of them working women, two of them with children. Three generations of women. None would marry again.

Deeply, a mother's daughter
--this is alifewithmom--