Rosie and Me

Last night as some sisters were preparing to head out for the evening, and others were ready to call it a night, I overheard someone evoke Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's famous quote while sharing a bit of sisterly advice. She said, "Well behaved women do not make history. Don't make history tonight." I laughed and immediately thought of my mother, who if she'd been familiar with that quote would have totally flipped it on me as a way of telling me to behave myself. Ma was on my mind all day today as I looked forward to Labor History Night where, this year as last year and I assume every year, mothers were very much present. Literally, of course, since many Summer School attendees are mothers, but also symbolically in that we stand on the shoulders of the women we celebrated tonight; they are the mothers of our movement.

I've always been drawn to the image of Rosie the Riveter. She has graced the walls of my home for years, I've worn her image on t-shirts and buttons, and once talked a young woman I tutored into writing a term paper about her. I think it's because my mother often spoke proudly of her "war work" testing transistors at the General Electric plant in Schenectady, NY. After the war she left the world of work outside the home to spend the next 3-1/2 decades raising four kids and caring for two grandchildren while my older sister earned her nursing degree. Then, in her early 60s, she found herself divorced with three of her four kids grown and one (me) soon to be college bound. She needed to go back to work. At first she looked for private childcare positions but no one would hire her because they thought she was too old. Then she found a program to provide part-time employment for older people trying to reenter the workforce. She proved so adept that someone recommended she take a civil service exam and, at 60-something, my mother became a mental health therapy aide at a state facility and first-time union member (CSEA). I still marvel at how she was able to be so successful after such a long absence. The world had changed so much that one could hardly blame her for feeling like Rip Van Winkle and, yet, she didn't miss a beat. She worked hard, was good at her job, enjoyed the benefits of union membership, and helped put me through college. My hero may not be in history books but she set one hell of an example and I strive to honor her legacy every day.