Echoes in a Hollow Space

Sometimes older women in the workforce are told by younger ambitious women to get out of the way and let the young women have a shot. Perhaps older men are told this, too, but I can’t speak to their experience. The heartbreaking thing about this is that it doesn’t just happen in the hallways of power. All my life I’ve been working class, struggling to get by the best I could, but I’ve had this said to me. And female friends of mine who are in the hallways of power have also had it said to them. Ageism is as insidious as sexism, but I have to tell you, hearing this crap from your same sex has a real double sting.

Thankfully, for many reasons, I have left the workforce, but ageism continues apace.

Now, ageism is wrong no matter which direction it’s going. Older people trashing younger people is just as wrong, and I’ve heard that, too. Often, it’s from people of a certain level of affluence trashing younger people who they don’t think are doing things “the right way.” Back in the olden days this was referred to as The Generation Gap—and yes, I was once young and criticized by members of the Greatest Generation for not doing things the way they thought I should. But as Judith Tarr recently pointed out eloquently on Twitter, this has always been about power, not the inherent goodness or wrongness of a certain generation. Stoking the flames of generational warfare has always been a tactic of those in power who want to keep us bickering about shit like this so they can keep on doing their real nasty deeds without interference. As Ms. Tarr pointed out, “It’s never the age, children. It’s rich vs poor. The rich want to rob us and roll us and dump us to starve. Always did. Always will….Your kids are going to say the same exact things about you.”

If the older woman in question doesn’t choose to consign herself to the ash heap of history, she is sometimes accused of being greedy. But everyone deserves their shot, older people, younger people, of being a constructive member of society. You’re not wasting air and/or resources if you are still trying hard to give something back.

So listen up: I’m trying hard. And I will not get out of the way. You shouldn’t, either, no matter what your age.

Random quote of the day:

“Thank God you hadn’t the means or you may have been a Pharaoh.”

—Jalaluddin Rumi, “What Is Bounty Without a Beggar?” (tr. Robert Bly)

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

Random quote of the day:

“Friends, genuine friends, have much more to do with whether we have a warm heart, not money or power.”

—Dalai Lama, Twitter, June 10, 2011

 

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

Random quote of the day:

“There is not one human creature in power who will not be modest enough to confess that he proceeds wholly upon a principle of corruption.”

—Jonathan Swift, letter to Lord Bolingbroke, April 5, 1729

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

Random quote of the day:

“Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren’t.”

—attributed to Margaret Thatcher

 

Disclaimer:  The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

To enjoy once your power comes back on.

I’m slowly going through every ancient Word file I have to make them openable by the newer versions of Word.  It’s been a painful lesson in keeping things current, but every once in a while I come across a gem that makes the whole process worthwhile.  I came across this one today.

Of course, this is about a cold storm, not violent winds with heat, but…

After the Storm

by Billy Collins

Soft yellow-gray light of early morning,
butter and wool,
the two bedroom windows
still beaded and streaked with rain.

The world calm again, routine with traffic,
after its night of convulsions,
when storm drains closed at the throat,
and trees shook in the wind like the hair of dryads.

In the silent house, its roof still on,
too early for the heat to come whistling up
and the guest room doors still closed,
I am propped up on these pillows,

a gray, moth-eaten cashmere jersey
wrapped around my neck
against the unbroken cold of last night.
I am thinking about the dinner party,

the long table, dark bottles of Merlot,
the odd duck and brussels sprouts,
and how, after midnight,
with all of us sprawled on the couch and floor,

the power suddenly went out
leaving us to feel our way around
in the tenth-century darkness
until we found and lit a stash of candles

then drew the circle of ourselves a little tighter
in this softer hula of lights
that gleamed in mirrors and on rims of glasses
while the shutters banged and the rain lashed down.

A sweet nut of memory—
but the part that sends me whirring
in little ovals of wonder,
as the leftover clouds break apart

and the sun brightly stripes these walls,
is the part that came later,
hours after we had each carried a candle
up the shadowy staircase and gone to bed.

It was three, maybe four in the morning
when the power surged back on,
and, as if a bookmark
had been inserted into the party

when the lamps went dark,
now all the lights downstairs flared again,
and from the stereo speakers
up through the heat register

into our bedroom and our sleep
blared the sound of Jimmy Reed
singing “Baby What You Want Me to Do”
just where he had left off.

So the party resumed without us,
the room again aglow with a life of its own,
the night air charged
with guitar and harmonica,

until one of us put on slippers,
went down to that blazing, festive emptiness,
and turned everything off.
Then, without lights or music,

even the ghosts of ourselves
had to break up their party,
snub out their cigarettes,
carry their wineglasses to the kitchen,

where they kissed each other good night,
and with nowhere else to go,
floated vaguely upstairs
to lie down beside us in our dark and quiet beds.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.

Random quote of the day:

“Knowledge and human power are synonymous…”

—Sir Francis Bacon, Novum Organum

Disclaimer:  The views expressed in this random quote of the day do not necessarily reflect the views of the poster, her immediate family, Siegfried and Roy, Leonard Maltin, or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. They do, however, sometimes reflect the views of the Cottingley Fairies.

Mirrored from Better Than Dead.