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The Feminist Grandma

Thanks, Sandra.

Sara Anderson

Liz, I have come to your blog this morning from your post on my Facebook page -- at which I rarely look. I have been reading randomly and love it -- it is like having good visit with you. Please send me your email so I can send you an update for us. All love, Sara

The Feminist Grandma

Sara, what a treat! I'm so glad you like it. I'll email you.

Marjorie Power

Thanks, Liz, I read this with interest and pleasure. I have a favorite book on old age to recommend: THE FORCE OF CHARACTER AND THE LASTING LIFE by James Hillman. Although I am "only" 64, like you, I have read it twice and will read it again, like poetry.

The Feminist Grandma

I'll look for it, Marjorie. The one thing I'm sure about - life doesn't get less interesting as we get older.

naomi childers

Liz, I don't know that I am old until I get up out of my recliner chair....then my body reminds me.So I sit in my chair a lot and let that little place in my brain fool me into being young still.
love you,

The Feminist Grandma

Naomi - I THINK I like the idea of being old. The twinges - not so much. Joe is coming soon to visit - isn't he gorgeous with gray hair?


Wonderful essay Liz! Thank you. Here's a Robert Frost poem to go along with it:

All out of doors looked darkly in at him
Through the thin frost, almost in separate stars,
That gathers on the pane in empty rooms.
What kept his eyes from giving back the gaze
Was the lamp tilted near them in his hand.
What kept him from remembering what it was
That brought him to that creaking room was age.
He stood with barrels round him -- at a loss.
And having scared the cellar under him
In clomping there, he scared it once again
In clomping off; -- and scared the outer night,
Which has its sounds, familiar, like the roar
Of trees and crack of branches, common things,
But nothing so like beating on a box.
A light he was to no one but himself
Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon
As better than the sun in any case
For such a charge, his snow upon the roof,
His icicles along the wall to keep;
And slept. The log that shifted with a jolt
Once in the stove, disturbed him and he shifted,
And eased his heavy breathing, but still slept.
One aged man -- one man -- can't keep a house,
A farm, a countryside, or if he can,
It's thus he does it of a winter night.

David Ruhland

I am seldonm on facebook, Liz.. but u know from our recent discussion that I adore you and DAMN you still are a master at prose. Are any of us going to be like that that when we're 80.. I do not know, but know this please, I will always be a friend who will care for you if u ever need.

On the questions of women's health it's almost incredible that the panels are totally dominated by men. But I don't totally agree that women's health and reproductive choices should be totally left to women... I'd like to think we are all in this together. They just have to get some of those crazy men off the panels and have some smart women instead... DAMN..at least 50%. I've seen how far we have come with civil rights, women's rights and now gay rights. We've still got a LONG way to go.. but let's stick together

The Feminist Grandma

Arupa - I found your comment! I'm so glad to share the poem with everyone. I love people sending poetry - anyone reading this, take note. And also go to Arupa's blog, Vermont and Other States of Mind (link is at right) for the visions of a unique and brilliant mind.

David - thank you for the praise. You saw me "liking" the Emily's List post on FB re men presuming to decide re women's health. I believe that women's health and reproductive choices should be left to the woman concerned. And as for public policy re those, sorry - men have such a terrible track record that I'd leave it to the women, even though there are lots of female dodos.

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