All It Takes Is A Little Love

We all too often underestimate the strength and wisdom of women. When the men have gone to war, the women have kept the farms providing, the businesses running, the production of necessities continuing. For most of history women were thought to be inferior to men, better designed for bearing and raising children than participating in politics or having the skills to work outside of the home. In many cases women had few rights and were forced to stay in abusive marriages lest they lose their children and their property. With only a few exceptions it  took humankind centuries to finally admit to the intelligence and wisdom of women even as people surely noted those characteristics in their mothers and sisters and wives. 

It was not until nineteen twenty that women in the United States universally received the right to vote and yet they had already proven themselves time and again to be worthy of participating in our democratic republic. Abigail Adams was a well educated and intelligent woman who often provided sound advice to her husband. She wanted women to be included in the rights outlined by the men fashioning our Constitution, but old fashioned beliefs prevented such a thing from happening. For a very long time there was a belief that women were too emotional to have the wisdom needed to make proper choices in political matters. 

Even after women were granted the right to vote they have continued to be underrated by large swaths of the population. Their competence is more likely to be judged by appearance or generalizations about their lack of toughness in difficult situations in spite of mountains of evidence throughout history of the incredible strength of women. 

I find myself thinking of all of the women that I have ever known and of their remarkable resilience and dedication to often quietly keep the world around us moving forward. Even to this very day we all too often underestimate their contributions to the progression of history. We overlook the hurdles that they have had to encounter and overcome. 

Both of my grandmothers were resigned to caring for others from a young age. Their brothers were sent to school while they were kept home to help with the household chores and their younger siblings. As a result they never learned to read or write and yet they both developed a kind of wisdom that was never measured and sometimes never even noticed but I witnessed their knowledge and their ability to nurture and develop the members of their families. They were the heart of wisdom in their homes and the reason that their children were confident and bright. 

My mother lost her husband at the age of thirty. She was left with three children and little income but she managed to purchase and eventually own two houses and then earn a college degree all while providing her children with the love and confidence that they would need to emerge as strong and productive citizens of the world. Nothing was easy about her life. Not a single day was a piece of cake but with her intelligence and survival skills she dedicated herself to guiding us and improving herself at one and the same time. She was the angel who sat in the dark of night at our bedsides when we were sick and then tackled the business of running our home without ever complaining about how tired she must have been. 

My mother-in-law was a brilliant only child who earned a place at Rice University when women were rarely given the opportunity to be there. A mathematics teacher flunked both her and the only other girl in the class with a kind of glee. My mother-in-law left the school feeling broken but not for long. When her father suddenly died she helped her mother run the business that he had built with his brothers. The two women became the heart and soul of the family corporation with my mother-in-law meticulously keeping the books and her mother fielding the growth of the company. They were literally the glue that held the family together and they fulfilled all of their obligations so smoothly that they made their contributions almost seem like nothing of real importance and yet it was the only reason that the business did not die. 

My sister-in-law became an electrical engineer in an era when women were insulted and almost dared to continue with such majors. She pushed through one obstacle after another until she eventually became an often honored icon at NASA. Toward the end of her career she was traveling around the world as the representative of the International Space Station. 

We have seen the excellence of woman after woman in careers and endeavors that take incredible skill to run and yet we still seem unwilling in the United States to vote for a woman to be our president. Twice now the American people have shunned two incredibly brilliant women in favor of a blustering huckster who again and again seems to be ill suited for the job. We blame one of his former opponents for wearing the wrong kind of pantsuits instead of noting her success in virtually every aspect of her life. We run from the other because she laughs too much even though she was a lawyer, a district attorney and the Vice President of the United States who quietly travelled across the globe diplomatically creating incredible relationships to our nation’s advantage. 

As a woman who has followed in the role models of my grandmothers, my mother, my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law and I forged my own success in the world of education I look now to my granddaughter who is certain to have a positive impact on the world. Her aspirations are boundless, her confidence is heroic and her determination is unrelenting. I dream of a day when women like her and so many who have come before her will be recognized without any judgements based on superficial and silly ideas. It is time for the women to rise and not be sent back home to let the men take care of things. It’s time for us to admit just how tough and resilient woman are and have always been. It’s not about taking away from men, but about finally admitting that women are true equals who can be trusted to get the jobs done.    

Many years ago my husband and I decided to visit a Plumeria show near our home. I had seen the lovely plants thriving and blooming in homes near my brother’s beach house. One of my sister-in-laws grew plumeria from Hawaii and from cuttings given to her in the backyards of friends. I thought it might be fun to try my hand at propagating one or two, so off we went to see what was available.

The first thing we realized was that most of the plants were little more than stalks without roots boasting tiny sprouts of green at the tip. The vendors assured us that all we had to do to end up with a lovely plant was to just stick the branch into some dirt and wait for it to grow roots. Given the incredibly high prices for the opportunity to maybe get a lovely specimen if all went well we were loathe to gamble too many of our funds for what might turn out to be a pig in a poke. We carefully chose a couple with a reasonable price tag and enough information to learn how to get them to grow.

That first year we mostly saw growth of the trunk, a few additional branches and green leaves at the end of each protuberance. It was disappointing not to see any flowers but we understood the need for patience. Upon advice from my sister-in-law we stowed our plumeria away in the warmth of the garage for the winter and watched the leaves fall and the branches become barren. We thought that surely they were dying but learned that they were simply dormant for the season.

Happily our plants, also known as frangipani, survived the cold months and by spring were getting leaves once again. During this second season they grew like weeds and greeted us with lovely pink and yellow blooms that kept coming throughout the summer. When the temperature began to drop again in the fall the plants were so tall that they would not go through the garage door without carefully tipping the dolly on which we moved them.

And so it went in yet another cycle with the blooms growing ever more profuse on plants that would no longer fit through a door. When fall came we had to lop off multiple branches with the assurance that the blooms would come again in spite of the trimming. Then we set the branches aside so that they might dry out during the long winter. When spring game we rooted them in small pots and hoped for the best. Our efforts paid wonderful dividends as we now had at least six plants ready to show their magic for the warm season.

As the years went by we made more and more cuttings and gave them to neighbors and family members who were anxious to try their own hand at keeping the plants growing and blooming year after year.

We eventually ended up with eight plumeria that we wanted to keep and gave away the extra stalks that we trimmed from our favorites year after years. As we grew older the massive trees became more and more difficult to move around so we selected the five best and gave away the rest.

Now we pay someone to move the plants back and forth and in and out of the garage. We are too old to lift the giant plants but not ready to give them away. We did not have time to trim them back last fall so we will have to do that task at the end of the growing season or they won’t fit in the garage next time. We should have a bumper crop of cuttings for anyone who wants to try to make them grow.

I’ve never been to Hawaii but I am told that the plumeria there live in the ground all year long. I suppose that I would have many more if I did not have to face the task of trimming them and moving them back and forth each year. I would be able to let them grow into massive clumps that spread out to show the gorgeous and aromatic blooms that make them so precious.

I have to visit Hawaii one day so that I might see them growing in the wild. Who knows maybe I will purchase some interesting breeds that I have never before seen and bring a sample back to my yard. I can tell you for certain that they are joyful plants with hints of the exotic that nothing else matches. I always have cuttings in the fall. Let me know if you would like a sample to grow or give away. You will no doubt be enchanted the first time one of the lovely blossoms smiles at you from across the lawn. There are few hobbies more rewarding than stopping and smelling the aromatic topical scents of plumeria which can be a mix of gardenia, jasmine, peach, coconut or cinnamon. It’s like having the tropics without leaving home.

I don’t do well at the end of May. My father died on May 31, sixty nine years ago and I have thought about him every single year on the date of his death. It recently occurred to me that over time there have been fewer and fewer people who actually remember him. Even my younger brothers often have to ask me what he was like because they were so very young when he died. Because I was eight years old I am officially the keeper of stories about him when it comes to my siblings. Fortunately he was such an incredibly interesting man that I have many vivid memories of him but there are times when I wonder if my thoughts of him are totally accurate or just the adoration of a child. I speak of him because I do not want him to simply fade into the anonymity of history.  

I try to describe my father to my daughters and my grandchildren who are very close to my father-in-law. I have to admit that sometimes I feel quite sad that he has been able to be so much a part of their lives while my own incredible father is only a kind of mythical figure who never fully takes shape in their minds. When I see them showering my father-in-law with love and kisses I imagine them feeling the same with the grandfather that they never knew. Because I witnessed how people enjoyed being around my father I am certain that he would have impressed his grandchildren and great grandchildren as well. He was a most interesting person who had barely make a mark on the world when his life ended so suddenly. 

My aunts and uncles and older cousins often shared stories of their interactions with my father. I appreciated the information that they gave me. Their comments convinced me that my memories of him are not just snippets of adoration blown out of proportion from reality. He was indeed a Renaissance man who was so multidimensional that it is difficult to define his essence. He was an artist and a scientist, a poet and a builder, a scholar and a sports fan, an historian and an engineer, a beloved son, husband, father and friend. 

Life is such a mystery. We humans never know why some people only live for a short time on this earth while others stay with us for decades. None of us know how long our own existence on this earth will last. Eventually we all have a date with destiny. Leaving this earth is inevitable and most of us hope that we will have made a positive impact before we go. My father had already been an overachiever in all that he attempted to do but I know that he had so much more to give this world and its people. I often imagine talking with him as an adult even as I remember how much he respected me as a child.

I suppose that my grandmother summed up his life better than anyone. She always boasted that he was a very good boy, a loving soul. There was a sweetness about him that permeated everything that he did. He celebrated life and people and had a way of making everyone feel important. Now I am among the last of the keepers of his memory and I fear that he will eventually be only an old time photo and a name on the family tree. 

I always laughed that he had such a simple name, Jack Little, with no middle name, no pretentiousness, just an all American guy. He grew up in Oklahoma and Texas in whichever town his father landed work. He adjusted to the frequent moves and in fact became an inveterate traveller. Moving and seeing new people and places was a way of life ingrained in his soul. He surrounded himself with art and music and books and knew how to talk about all of those things. When the guys came around he was just as good at conversing about hunting, fishing and every kind of sporting event. He was thoughtful and loving in extraordinary ways. He was also still trying to decide exactly who and what he wanted to be at beyond age of thirty three. 

My mother never remarried even though she was beautiful and had many would be suitors. My father was a difficult act to follow and she often boasted that it would have been difficult to accept a lesser person as a replacement for him. She remained devoted to him unto the day that she died. 

So it is the end of May and once again I will endure that sick feeling of an eight year old who lost one of the most incredible persons who was part of my life. I will recall the trauma of that event knowing that I found ways to move on but never to forget. I will be grateful that I had such an incredible man as a mentor if only for a short time. My father’s wisdom and love has lived on in my heart. He gave me courage and showed me how to never settle for being less than I am. His spirit is so much a part of who I am. 

I think of people that I know who lost their fathers as a child or lost a child as an adult. I feel a kinship with my mother and my grandmother.  Between us was a deep bond of love for a remarkable man who was gone far too soon. I’ll keep telling the world who Jack Little was because I think it is quite important to keep his memory alive. Still, I wish that so many more would have enjoyed the pure bliss of knowing him. 

Rest in peace, Jack Little. You were truly the best of us. I will always love you.

The old lady hobbled as fast as she was able but as she failed to get close to her destination she felt hopeless. Part of her wanted to just sit down and cry while part of her knew that she had to persist or find herself stranded. She just kept putting one foot in front of the other moving as quickly as her knees would allow her to do. 

The journey had begun in San Antonio, Texas for a trip to South Bend, Indiana where she watched her grandson graduate from Notre Dame University. The next leg of the trip would take her and her family to Detroit and from there they would fly into Portland, Maine. Her husband had been worried about the Detroit layover because it was a quick transition and he wondered if they might find themselves being left behind by a flight that had to stay on schedule. 

The South Bend airport was rather quiet compared to others that the old lady had seen. She felt somewhat serene and confident as she waited to board the plane. It did not even bother her when they seemed to be frantically searching for the flight crew that had not yet shown up for the trip. Little did she realize that the entire schedule had been thrown off kilter because that crew was waiting at the wrong gate. 

There was a sense of urgency once the crew was in place and the passengers began to board. The pilot knew that the flight was behind schedule and everyone suddenly felt caught up in a kind of whirlwind. The lady still had no idea what was to come and how difficult the next leg of the trip would be. 

She had undergone surgery to replace one of her knees only four months before. The doctor had told her that a complete recovery would take anywhere from six months to a year but she had worked hard at her exercise routine and felt confident that her new knee would serve her well in any situation. Her other knee was set for surgery in the future but it worked well enough to keep her moving. She settled into her seat at the back of the plane confident that she would be just fine for the walk in the Detroit airport but her confidence was going to be challenged. 

The plane from South Bend arrived late. The passengers going to Portland had five minutes to get to the next gate before it would close. It sounded doable until the old lady realized that the gate was at the farthest distance from where the plane had landed. She understood that she would have to move more quickly than she had for some time. Running was not yet possible but fast walking was the only way that she would not be left stranded in Detroit. 

The younger members of her family raced ahead hoping to convince the agents to wait for the elderly woman who was coming as fast as her knees would allow her to move. Her husband was just ahead of her with his longer stride for most of the journey but before long her knees began to scream at her to stop and she fell farther and farther away from him. As her frustration mounted she had to take deep breaths to keep from bursting into tears. All the while she watched the time pass one minute after another on her watch. When she had been rushing for five minutes she was still far from her destination and she felt like giving up but she had always been a determined person and she somehow found the grit to carry on. 

She kept counting the gates as she passed them. One and then another and another. Her destination seemed to be moving farther and farther away. She began to grumble about the crew that was late. She wondered why the airline would expect anyone to go so far from one gate to another. She oscillated between anger and self pity. She began to imagine herself just sitting down in protest of her ridiculous situation and then she sighted her son-in-law waving her on from the gate. He had convinced the agent to keep the door open just a bit longer in expectation of an elderly lady limping her way to the finish line. She had done it and she suddenly felt like one of those people who keep going in a marathon on sheer will even though they will be the last persons across the finish line.

She huffed and puffed as she boarded the plane and found her seat. She thought of the good doctor who had given her a knee that actually worked. She smiled at the many times that her physical therapist had pushed her beyond comfort zone. She congratulated herself on all of the hard work that she had been doing from the first moments after her knee surgery and she felt like a champion. 

In a couple of hours the woman and her family were driving around Portland looking for a place to eat lunch. Everyone was trying to find an inexpensive place but she knew that it was time to celebrate. She insisted that the repast would be her gift to everyone and they ended up feasting on one of the most delicious seafood and fine wine that any of them had ever had. Suddenly she did not feel so old after all.  

Abby was a tiny little girl when she was born prematurely along with a twin brother. She was so small that I was afraid to hold her but she demonstrated her mettle from the beginning of her life. When it came time for her to crawl she was unable to do so. A physical therapist worked with her and commented that she had never before seen a baby work so hard to gain her ability to move around. Soon Abby was crawling away just like her brother but then her doctor determined that she also needed glasses. There she was only a few month old wearing spectacles and looking rather adorable in them. Once again she was willing to do exercises to help improve her vision and by the time she was in school she no longer needed them. 

Abby was an outstanding student who took her lessons quite seriously. At the same time she tackled water to swim like a fish and joined a swim team. She was still so small for her age that her coach often paired her with younger children but even that did not set her back. Eventually she decided to try other things, like acting at which she was a natural. She got work on two television programs and even served as a voice for the San Antonio Spurs in an ad. She was busy finding her way in the world and soon turned to raising animals and riding horses. Through the FFA program at her high school she won trophies in public speaking and raised three goats. She worked for veterinarians in the summer and became certified to be an assistant, finally realizing that her future lay in becoming a lawyer. 

She ended up being fifth in her high school class and applied to Cornell University and Bowdoin College. She was accepted by both but felt that Bowdoin College was the place she needed to be. With multiple scholarships and grants the price of her education fell below the cost of a state school and so she spent four years charming the professors at Bowdoin the way she had impressed adults for her entire life. 

Abby graduated from Bowdoin College this month with many honors. She was among a select group of students inducted into the coveted Phi Beta Kappa honors society. She graduated with A’s in every course and the designation of Magna Cum Laude. She was one of a handful of Government and Legal Studies students who completed an Honors project that required her to research a certain area and present her findings in a one hundred page document. Finally she was acknowledged as the top student in the Government and Legal studies program for her work in American politics. Her professors raved about her intellect and dedication to her studies. All of them saw her as one of the most outstanding students that they have ever taught. 

Each summer Abby also worked at internships with a defense lawyer, the District Attorney’s office in Seattle and at the Brennan Center for Justice where she wrote a paper on voter repression that was published in their newsletter. Now she has begun a job in New York City with a law firm where she will work for the next two years before applying to law school.  

I am not at all surprised that my granddaughter Abigail Martin has done so well. I have watched her overcome one challenge after another with dogged determination. I have witnessed her putting in the hard work of being the best version of herself. She is a mighty woman with the kindest heart I have ever witnessed. Her real goal is to help those who find injustice rather than the encouragement that she has always had. She will be an advocate for the underserved.

As a grandmother I cannot praise her enough. She carries the determination of her great grandmothers who were not taken as seriously as they should have been in another era when women were mostly valued for their mothering and housekeeping. She will fulfill the dreams of her grandmother whose own life was sidelined by a life filled with tragedies that set her on a different pathway. She is the pride of her mother and father who gave her the freedom and opportunities to be herself. We all know that she has only just begun and that the best is still to come. 

Abby is my hero. She is a brave wonder woman who on her own found a job in NYC and then locked in an apartment with two others. She drove from her graduation to her new home with a car loaded with her belongings and didn’t bat an eye at the prospect of navigating the traffic in the big city. Her courage is inspiring and her unwillingness to be held back is wonderful to see. I wish her well in the journey that lies ahead and have confidence that the little baby who refused to be immobile will conquer whatever comes her way.