debeda wrote:
Very, VERY true!! I wish I had worked for your company!!
I grew up up a hard scrabble farm in a community of the same. We were all living season by season, crop to crop. No matter how bad it was for all, everyone would pull together, go to rice & beans, instead of beans & rice. Trust me, there is a difference. When you see hot buttered cornbread for breakfast instead of biscuits, you know times are not good. Cornbread pancakes are good, I still make them.
I don’t have the vocabulary to say things w/o offending someone, hope no one has to rush to their therapist. I learned early on that females, beast, or human were the most important part of nature. I grew up in the South, another strike against me, but I knew it was Steel Magnolias that rebuilt what was left after The War. I think it is a trait in all women who live close to nature. My mother & a mother off a MidWest farm would have had more in common than she ever had w/ city wives. I watched my mother eat two three bites, say she just wasn’t hungry, put her food back in the pot, hoping Daddy would eat when he got in from the fields. When I went to the fields, she was hoping both of us would eat. No mention was ever made the next day that we had leftovers from the day before.
I was raised to respect all women, insulting my mother was understood to be a killing offense. The adjectives used flagrantly today would all fall in the same category. If you saw a woman being abused, did not matter what was going on, you got it the middle of it. Sometimes it ended up w/ you having a problem but you did it anyway.
I got my first taste of radical feminism in 1972. It was on the first TOSHA inspection ever made in TN. The owner of the plant asked me to be there because I installed & serviced all his manufacturing equipment. We had our introductory meeting, reviewed the paperwork & started into the manufacturing area. I opened the door for the young lady, she stepped in the doorway & said us, “Let’s get one damn thing straight right now. I am perfectly capable of opening doors for myself.” I apologized for offending her, assured her she could open all the doors we were going to go through.
In 1974, I was on a oneway street in Roanoke, VA & motion in the car beside me at stoplights caught my attention. The second time I looked, the man had knocked one of the woman’s eyeballs out. I turned off the car went over to his, snatched door open & suggested if he were a real man, try me on for size. When he got straightened up out of the car & I was looking at his Adam’s Apple, I knew I had a problem. He was already in mean mode. I went country, long story short, I ended up in jail, facing 20 years for “Mayhem on a human body.” I made bond went to see the woman in the hospital, gave her my card & asked her to call me everyday to let me know how she was doing. When it came time for court, the Judge took me in his chambers for a chat. He asked me if I understood what 20 mandatory meant? I assured him I did, he told me the DA would accept a guilty plea to assault, serve 5. I told him I would not plead guilty to anything except not being able to kill that man before the cops pulled me off him. He asked, “You grew up on a farm, didn’t you?” I confessed. He said he did too, couldn’t say he would not consider the offer were he in my shoes, but hoped he would not. He told me my fate depended on the woman, he had seen a lot of women choose abuse.
I had a good lawyer, had gross pictures of the woman’s condition on multiple visits to hospitals, testimony about him dragging her out of a women’s shelter by her hair. The DA kept drawing attention to my mayhem victim in a big half laid back wheel chair contraption, still in casts, w/ one eye, pieces of ears, & some resemblance of a nose, no front teeth. During his questioning of the 4 arresting officers. He did everything he could to try to get one of them to say I had a weapon, hit one of them, that they were derelict in their duty to get me off. All they would say was I was determined not to be pulled off. The DA pointed at me, asked one of the cops to read my statistics from my booking paperwork. Six feet, 165lbs. He asked each cop for their height, weight, about their training. The last cop got a chuckled reprimand from the Judge when he told the the DA after giving his statistics, size don’t matter when willpower is in control.
When the woman took the stand, she asked the Judge if she could just make a statement & be done. The Judge agreed over protests from the DA. She pointed at me & said, “I wish that man had come along years ago. I did not think I was going to live through the beating that day, was tired of the pain. I will never let another man hurt me.”
Yep, I am one of the “Old White Men who needs to die” according to Oprah. I escorted the first black girl through our high school during desegregation deep in South GA. There was no hullabaloo. She made friends quickly, gave me a nickname, “Bones”.
I have nurtured, pushed, pulled, begged on occasion, women assembly line workers to be their best, congratulated them when they got better jobs when I had no place available for them. I have been blessed to live long enough to see some own their own companies, others running large companies. I expect all of them can open doors for themselves, but most likely they will say “thanks” if a man opens one for them. They are confident, don’t have time or interest in petty displays.