Life in a Nutshell

A Century of Women

In the Spring of 2015, my Nana died. She was 101. She had such presence. Not many can say they lived from the horse and buggy age to supersonic flight. This woman was born during the Great War, survived the depression, was married during World War II, experienced the splendor of the space race, the horror of the nuclear age and the power of the information age.

She was incredibly adaptable, and flexed to fit any situation. She was active politically, artistically and socially all the way up to her final year.

Virginia was a force of nature. She had two daughters, who each had girls. We were three generations of women. No men in sight, unless you count the husbands. Only our generation has now introduced the male gender back into the genetic line up.

I wrote this for her, on the plane to Bakersfield for her memorial service. I was scheduled to speak, but I wanted to say something special. A normal "blah, blah, blah speech," didn't seem like it would cut it.

She was such an integral part of my childhood. She's the one that sent me books every year. Everything from Charlotte's Web, to Ralph S. Mouse, The Wind in the Willows, and the Secret Garden. I ended up loving to read just about any book that came my way, because of her. She was one of my top five influential people, and needed something special in return.

I hope you enjoy it.

A Century of Women

For one hundred years we are children.
Playing in the back yard, braids flying, bare feet in tickly grass, smiling at flowers. Singing every day, running through sprinklers, wading at the shore, our dresses traded for over-alls. We bury our faces in the soft fur of our favorite pets, breathing in the promises of youth. We squeal with delight at watermelon and strawberry shortcake with real whipped cream.

'Mama!' we cry and run to hug her waist, feel her strength and safety as she smiles down at us and sees the reflection of her own youth.

For one hundred years we are dreamers.
Vibrant young women, with hair thick and glossy...our breasts and hearts swelling with life and the promise of future. We are smart, healthy, heedlessly beautiful, educated, independent and opinionated! We hold the love of many in our hands. We can do anything - there is no goal we haven't met, no wrong choice we've made, no path untaken. We ache to give it, to share the gift. Our laugh is throaty and full of joy as we squeeze her hand in affection.

'Mama' we smile and then turn to walk away without a backward glance.

For one hundred years we are givers.
We are at the forefront of our families - always offering the largest piece, the prime cut and choice serving to our partners, our children, our guests. We represent those who came before us. We are the defenders of our names and honor the role that time and experience has given us. We offer our children a better way, a brighter tomorrow - not out of criticism...but because we are her. Her success is our own, and we live on through her good judgment.

'Mama' she cries as she calls us on the phone, our lives still entwined over thousands of miles. Her tears stream down our face and are kissed away by encouraging words.

For one hundred years we are survivors.
Our secrets are well and hidden, and we've spent our lives overcoming them. But we square our shoulders, and walk toward our end knowing that the shortest way out is straight through it. We do not escape, we never look for the easy way out. We survive the darkness, feeling alone only for a moment, but knowing we have the strength of generations supporting us.

'Mama' we whisper in her ear, as she hears the love we feel. Resting on her last pillow, a papery smile the only answer we will ever need.

For one hundred years we have lived in a state of grace.

For out of heartache-we find hope.

For out of pain-we build strength.

For out of failure-we find opportunity.

For in the face of fear-we take courage.

For out of adversity-we build character.

For in loss-we gain faith.

Because out of flesh-comes eternity.