Now they call it harassment. I thought it was a way of life.

I had a long talk with my son today.  Not the young one, the older one who will no doubt put me  in Shady Pines someday.  The subject of the "Me To" movement came up and I was explaining to him that when I was newly divorced and in the work force needing to make a living it was what it was.  Back then women were supposed to stay home and if a divorce was your lot you should quickly find another husband.  When I mentioned that I was paid less then the men in the work place for the same exact work or sometimes more work because the men had families to support, he could not believe it.

When I left my husband, I immediately went to work because I needed a place to live and food for the table.  I applied for welfare, but was turned down because I worked.  I could not get a medical card because I worked.  There were no programs to help me because I was eligible for child support.  Of course there was no child support forthcoming, but since I was eligible I was out of luck.  No stipend for child care either because I had a husband who did not pay child support.  I am happy to say that has changed.  Well, not for me, because my kids are all grown and gone, but for other women.

Back in the early 1970's I went to work at the Holidome which was owned by Holiday Inn.  Fancy place with an indoor pool and poolside rooms.  Top notch back in the day.  There were 2 cooks.  I do not remember the other cooks name, but it seems like it was George.  Our duties were the same.  We cooked orders for the clientele.  George had a helper so mostly he just smoked (and you could have a cigarette dangling out of your mouth and a spatula in your other hand and that was alright back then) and told his helper what to do.  Imagine my surprise when I learned that they were both paid more per hour than I was.  I say surprised, but not really.  Back then it was expected.  Men were superior to women and they had families to support.  I had 5 kids at home, but that was irrelevant.  What really frosted my cookie was when I found out that the boy who made salads earned more than I did.  He was hired after me and called in sick at least once a week.  That meant I had my work and his work to do for $2.00 an hour less than he made.

I talked to many people about starting some sort of union so pay was more equitable and sick days could actually be earned, but all that ever got me was laughed at.  It was a lot easier to get a  husband then to get a day or 2 paid vacation.  When I first started the restaurant jobs we got free meals, but then the owners decided we were eating them out of house and home so we could buy our meals at a reduced rate, but if we sat down to eat them we had to clock out.  Having a pizza delivered was out of the question as was bringing a sack lunch.  We either paid or starved until we got home where food was free.  Although free in not to say it was free.  Just cheaper then eating at work.

I bartended a while and was also a waitress in a bar.  Now if you think my ass was not grabbed on a regular basis you are nuttier than bat shit!  It went with the territory.  If a woman worked in a bar it was because she wanted a husband or a sugar daddy or at the very least a one night stand.  Being friendly brought tips and I needed tips, but not that badly.  A drunk in a bar is not what I wanted out of life.  When the bell tolled midnight I just wanted to jump in my car and race home to my bed...alone.  I did not last very long in the bar setting.

The point I am trying to make here is that sexual harassment has been around as long as I can remember.  The "glass ceiling"  has always existed and it was not until I left the work place that there were improvements made.  I am happy for the women who have made strides, but let me clue you and them in on something, it is still alive and well in suburbia.  After my husband passed I was left to handle all the household repairs and maintenance.  First order of business was to have the septic tank pumped.  Being new to this I got out my yellow pages and called the first one listed.  And here he came.

Short, greasy and with a definite attitude.  He jerked the lid off and informed me that it was dirty and nasty.  (Concrete lid covered with dirt on top of a riser where there were spider webs.)  Where was my husband and why was he not there?  Let's see, after he died he quit caring about the septic tank!  The $100 fee I was quoted immediately jumped to $150.  He informed me that it needed pumped every 6 months.  I paid him and never called them again.  I have a nice guy now who comes every 2 or 3 years.  Just one of the ways he discriminated.

Want my car worked on?  I get several estimates and if they ask about my husband, I don't call back.  There are shops out there who will discount because I am a widow.  And they repair what I want repaired and don't pad the bill.

It is no fun being a widow in this world of men, but more women are making it better for me.  I appreciate that.  But do not kid yourself into believing that we are on equal footing with the male population because they want us to be.  It is dog eat dog world out there and you can bet your sweet ass on one thing and that is I am no longer going to cow tow to the mean spirited little men I deal with on a regular basis.  If I pay they are going to treat me fair.

Life goes on.

Santa used to be on radar!

Life was not all bad back in the long ago days of raising children.  The one part I took advantage of was when they finally got Santa on radar.  The kids were always excited on Christmas Eve because they knew all they had to do was go to sleep and Santa would pop in and leave them presents.  Now I kind of resented the fact that I had busted my ass to buy presents and some fat fart was getting all the credit.  So I devised a way to actually turn the table so I could get a little credit for myself.

When the weather man would come on and show the tiny Santa and his tinier reindeer, they were inevitably clear up in Montana or somewhere just as distant.  I would carefully explain to the kids that they should go ahead and go to bed and I would keep watch and if they happened to notice I was gone it was probably because I had made arrangements to meet him in Nebraska or some where because no way in hell was I going to not let them have Christmas and there would be presents under the tree from that rascal or by God I would know the reason why.  So they went to bed and slept the sleep of children who could always depend on mother.

Now in all likely hood, had they awoken and gone to check under the tree and found me missing, I was probably at the bar just down the street for a quick beer or at the liquor store at the other corner replenishing my "will to live."  But either way, there was always a pile under the tree for each of them and I had the satisfaction of knowing there were 5 little kids who loved me and were grateful that I had stayed up all night to make sure Santa came through for them!  I was a damn good liar back in those days, but now I am not so good at it.

But then I really don't need to do it any more!  I may stay up tomorrow night just to see where Santa is and relive the days when a hairy old man in a red suit was something I really wanted to see.  I have my brother Jake to thank for ripping my belief in Santa to shreds.  I in turn twisted the knife in my sister Donna, she in Mary, and when the veil fell from the eyes of Dorothy our childhood was over and we transitioned into a family who celebrated Christmas for the birth of the Christ Child.

Everyone except my father, who was an atheist.

Merry Christmas from Liberal, Kansas!

I do not remember the year, but it must have been about 1966.  Sam was barely walking and he was born in 1965.  We had been living in Garden City, but Duane (I some times refer to him as Earl, but he was always Duane to me.  Earl Duane if I was pissed.) and his brother decided they were expanding the tree trimming business so we were in Liberal.  Duane had found a farm house outside of town that was abandoned.  He made a deal with the owner to fix it up and make it livable and we would not need to pay rent until it was done.  We would buy all the cleaning supplies, wall paper and paint.

I have always been handy with soap, water, wall paper and paint, so that became my job, along with raising the kids, so the deal was struck.  I am sure none of you are going to know what I am talking about when I tell you how we got water to the house.  Ever see a windmill?  That is a pump with a shaft that goes up a tower to a giant blade.  When you want water, you loosen the brake and the blades begin to turn causing the apparatus that goes down into the well to go up and down, thus pumping water up the pipe and into the big holding tank above (and for the life of me I can not remember what that tank is called.).  There was no top on this tank so I am sure it was good clean water.  Water then flows from the tank into the pipes in the house by the gravity concept.  It was important that the tank stay full so there was water pressure.  All that is irrelevant to anything except that is the way we got water.

At that time we had the 4 oldest kids, Debbie 4, Patty 3, Dona  2 and Sam 1. The first item of business was to move into the house and set up sleeping quarters in the front room for the kids.  The furnace was also gravity operating on the concept that heat always rises.  The furnace was located in the basement and I do not recall ever going down there.  I think it was propane.  The vent was in the middle of the front room and the kids all learned very young to not walk on the furnace vent and if you look at the bottom of their feet you will probably find little squares where each one learned their lesson the hard way.

I vaguely recall that we moved in during the summer so by the time Christmas was upon us we were fairly settled into our new home.  I had finished our bedroom, the kids room, the front room and was starting the kitchen when Christmas time came.  Duane went to the "shelter belt" and cut down an evergreen tree, which ticked off the farmer, but oh well.  Decorations consisted of popcorn on a string, some red and green colored papers cut and glued and linked together and tinsel.  I do not know what Santa brought that year, but I do know he brought Sam a blue elephant on wheels and it was designed for him to set on it and move with his feet.  Would have been nice had it worked that way, but he was scared shitless of it.  Every time he seen it he went into screaming and crying fits like it was going to eat him.  We mostly kept it hidden and the only time it came out was when the girls wanted to torment him, which was often.

As I recall, winter was mild in Liberal since it was down in the southwest corner of Kansas.  I do not recall where they came from, but we had chickens which stayed in one of the out buildings.  I also recall we had a little black dog who brought me one of the chickens and laid it at the back door.  I do not recall ever seeing that dog again.

By the time spring arrived the house was in pretty good shape.  Every room had been gone through and cleaned, the wood work painted, walls newly wall papered  and the floors sealed.  I only had the bathroom left and was finishing pasting the trim around the top of the kitchen sealing when the landlord paid a call to see how the work was coming.  He was very impressed!  He walked slowly through each room noting the clean windows, the wall paper, the paint and praised my work.  The next day we got out eviction notice.  Seems his son was taking a wife and this would be the perfect place for them to live.  Talk about luck!

Back in those days we traveled light.  It was easier and cheaper to just leave the furniture and scrounge up new, then it was to load it and spend the gas money moving back and forth.  By the end of the next week we were living on the edge of town in a 3 room house with a huge back lot where I could grow a garden and a garage where I could keep my chickens.  For some reason the owner had painted every room black.  That was weird so the first order of the day was to drag out the paint brushes and spruce up the place.  The first swipe across the door post proved to be a rude awakening.  The place was almost devoured by termites!  It soon became apparent that what we saw was what we got in that house.  But I was always an optimist so I settled in.

I bought 100 straight run chickens and kept them in the garage.  In 2 months they were butchering size and I rented a locker in town.  75 fryers went in the locker.  The garden produced and I finished filling the locker with corn on the cob cut off the cob.  I was ready for winter!  The locker burned down and the man had no insurance.  All that work was wasted.  Then there was a windstorm and anything else we had was gone.  At some point the chickens that were in the garage  all ended up dead.  I called the sheriff and low and behold two boys in the neighborhood were found to have killed the chickens just for fun !

Debbie had started kindergarten some where along that time.  We decided we had enough of Liberal and we moved on.  Not sure where to, but if I think about it, I am sure I will remember.  That may have been when we moved back to Garden City. Or maybe that was when I moved to Hutchinson.  I need to think about this.

For now, I think I will get another cup of coffee and maybe run through the shower.  I am sure of one thing, the sun is up and the geese want out of their house.  Tomorrow is my anniversary.  I think I will bake me a cake.