My little dogs are 4 years old.            

My grandnieces in Florida are adorable.    

I am still processing some thoughts and feelings about my political experiences over the past decade. Before whining and opining much about this mostly enjoyable saga, I need to wrestle with one quandary.

What ever happened to my sense of humor?

I am pretty sure I used to be hilarious. Though as a younger child in Blair, I was a textbook introvert. This was convenient because I happened to dwell in a household where “seen but not heard” was tolerated, if not appreciated. I filled my 1950s childhood days with entertaining hours of T.V. viewing. I had outstanding comedy role models – Jack Benny, George Burns, Bob Cummings, Phil Silvers, Soupy Sales, Bugs Bunny, etc. Sure, these were all male entertainers, except maybe Bugs who was technically a cartoon. For some reason, I did not really appreciate the humor revolving around Lucy Ricardo in “I Love Lucy.” Fred Mertz always got some neighborly laughs at her expense. His amusement orbited the antics of Lucy and his wife Ethel. This made Fred a pretty big jerk in my eyes. Otherwise, I nostalgically recall feeling amused by most of my early exposure to comedy. I did not show much comedic potential myself until puberty when I lost my “cloak of invisibility.” I then discovered opportunities for social interaction.

I developed a humorous viewpoint that I shared with my peers from time to time. I think it all started on the city bus ride to R.M. Marrs Junior High School in Omaha. I recall exchanging verbal barbs with boys I found interesting or attractive. I would also whisper an occasional comment to my girlfriend disdaining our feminine competition. I have since learned that the signature type of humor I adopted as my own falls into the category of “Deadpan Snark.” This social construct served me well in high school, college, law school and well into my 30s. Around my 30th birthday, I did particularly notice that certain men who took themselves very seriously did not find my sarcastic comments all that amusing. Of course, this was not always a problem. Socially, I could just scorn and avoid the uninteresting dudes. I did not value their opinions or attention. Unfortunately, some of the totally dour fellows happened to be superiors in a professional work setting. This was harder to manage.

Another developmental milestone challenged my snarky perspective – I became a mother. Obviously, it is not at all nurturing to communicate with your child in a deadpan or sarcastic way. Nobody had to tell me this. It was basic human nature. I soon discovered that I had this new lilting “mother voice” that I used to speak to my child. This voice was higher in pitch, softer, soothing, and embodied my feelings of unconditional love. I think it conveyed my motherly love and support even when I was a stressed and scattered single mom. I take comfort in the fact that my son became a loving and responsible parent, although his political views went down a totally unexpected conservative path.

My late 30s and early 40s were spent in graduate school where I studied courses in psychology, psychotherapy, and social work strategies. Not much use of Deadpan Snark skills there. The insight I was given into empathy, compassion, tolerance, respect and Basic Humanity 101 took my own journey in another direction.

Along the way, I picked up another reason to put my humorous asides aside. I heard or read somewhere, possibly in Glamour, Cosmopolitan Magazine or a career self-improvement seminar, that sarcasm becomes unattractive when one attains middle age status. It is considered both sane and appropriate to be mature and earnest while aging into your enlightened years. I wanted to be taken seriously and appreciated for my character and hard earned wisdom. This instruction also coincided with the dawn of my political life. So, for the various reasons noted, my practiced and lethal snarkiness has faded into the beautiful Nebraska sunset. It has gone the way of saddle shoes, Slinkys and roller skate keys. It was great in its time and place, but now it is part of my “HERSTORY.”

TEAM SPIRIT

Thus far I have devoted 12 years of my life to Democratic Party activities. I was a Nebraska candidate in a total of 3 races: Congressional Democratic Primary 2004, Secretary of State 2010, and Attorney General 2014. I have served in several party leadership positions: Chair Nebraska Democratic Women’s Caucus, County Chair Dodge County, and First Congressional District Caucus Chair. I have served on the Nebraska Democratic Party Executive Committee and standing committees; i.e., Nominations, Rules, etc.

I have personally connected with thousands of Nebraska residents, considerably more if you count parades and the media. I found some lifelong friendships, and admittedly irritated more than a few in my statewide travels. Lots of acquaintances seem to really like me. I know some of these folks respect me. I truly appreciate it when friends and acquaintances share their life stories and journeys with me.

I have touted my academic background and professional resume, which is moderately impressive. I am a lawyer, mediator and counselor with degrees in Economics and Social Work. I am pretty well read in history, psychology, philosophy, world religions, and science. I have traveled to some interesting places near and far. I have served in leadership roles in non-profit organizations.

What truly surprises me, after all these years, is that I am hardly ever asked for advice or an opinion on any topic. Why, you ask? I honestly do not know. Of course, I do have theories and suspicions. Perhaps, a collective perception of my studious and analytical thinking combined with the devolution of my sense of humor? For now, I will spare readers the specific details of these musings. If you read earlier blog posts, you can likely see some themes emerging. If you have any guidance for me, I solicit your comments. What I am going to talk about in the rest of this post is some of the opinions I have curiously never been asked about.

Today, I am launching the debrief I was never asked to give. A brief description of context is probably necessary. There has been an on-going debate within the Democratic Party. I discovered and experienced this over the past decade. It concerns the allocation of resources, organizational structure and strategy. It applies directly to the electoral results of state parties. Nebraska is considered a “Red State” where registered Democrats are in the minority. The Nebraska Secretary of State reported that close to 31% of registered voters were Democrats for the 2014 General Election. In this electoral environment, a disturbing reality presents itself. It is in stark contrast to the concept “Too Big To Fail” we often hear in the media.

QUERY: IS THE NEBRASKA DEMOCRATIC PARTY TOO SMALL TO EVEN TRY?      

State Democratic Party. The Nebraska Democratic Party has a state convention every 2 years. Party leaders are elected for terms of 2- 4 years. It is only fair to acknowledge that these leaders are volunteers. They are not paid staff. They spend personal funds to travel, host events, make donations, etc. Democrats run for these offices for various reasons. You have the occasional leader who just wants to be somebody and have a platform from which to speak. Other leaders want to do something; often supporting a particular candidate, constituency or cause. Leaders at the top of the state party pyramid get to participate at the Democratic National Committee, and become super delegates at the Democratic National Convention. (I can only assume it must be interesting and exciting.) I appreciate the efforts of all the volunteers who actively participate in the activities of the Nebraska Democratic Party. Those who know me well will understand why my discussion does not end here.

The Nebraska Democratic Party has a Constitution and  Bylaws that are read and reviewed from time to time. A fair reading of the same suggests the existence of the party has some connection to electing Democrats to public office. The recent track record on this mission has not been good for at least a couple decades. A systematic and wide-ranging discussion of why and what to do about it is overdue.

My question of the Day: If you pay staff, rent and office expenses to manage events to raise funds used to pay salaries, rent and office expenses, are you really getting the job done? I know some other things get done along the way. I just think it is important to periodically and objectively look at the results. I understand this is where constructive feedback may come into play. What are we doing and how effectively? For the purpose of this discussion, I think we can assume Nebraska Democrats, if asked, would want leaders focusing more attention and resources on winning elections.

My decade in Nebraska Democratic politics led me to one inescapable conclusion. Candidates make a significant investment in the institution of the Nebraska Democratic Party. This is often a thankless and gratuitous gesture. In addition to the time and financial contribution candidates have in their own campaign, they are asked to contribute generously to various party coffers. For example, campaign costs for tables or tickets to Democratic Party events. Typically buying an entire table of seats will get the candidate’s name in the event program. An introduction from the podium is usually made. This “pay for play” tradition is harmless enough. It never gave me reason to throw in the towel. This custom just does not get anyone elected to office. Sometimes, it actually enables candidate dreams of reciprocal support that never materializes. This is a harsh reality candidates face. It can be a big disappointment to the novice campaigner. Candidate expectations of services and support may be fanciful in the current environment. Still, I think volunteer leaders of the Nebraska Democratic Party can do more to help their candidates.

It’s a conventional wisdom strategy to be a Czar (or Czarina) marshaling scarce troops and assets. When resources are limited, there are some other things to try. It is helpful to always remember enthusiasm and loyalty are free.  Party leaders, without incurring additional time or expense, can accept the role of volunteer coach. Here’s a hypothetical to consider: you coach your child’s sports team. They lose a lot. Do you quit? If not, why not? The same dynamics can apply to the Nebraska Democrats’ team. You cannot win if your team is complacent and expects to lose. You cannot motivate a team to win unless you believe in their potential and show it. You cannot win unless your political fan base throughout the state believes in your team’s ability and a viable shot at victory. You cannot win if you see your team as quixotic challengers to reigning champions. Your “brand” as the also-rans seems to be holding us back. It can still be re-imagined. This is best done by promoting, supporting and investing in your team. To belabor my amateur sports analogy – I believe it’s called having some skin in the game.

County Democratic Party organizations in Nebraska are distinct entities, often disorganized and disconnected. They may be carrying forward local traditions and annual events, or not so much. How do they encourage and help elect Democratic candidates to office in the 21st Century? Voting for the ticket and putting some yard signs on their lawn is never going to be enough. One obstacle is that Nebraskans really long to be on the winning team (see above). Currently, some of the fans and players on our team are too embarrassed to show their allegiance. As a Democratic candidate, it became apparent just how important it could be for state and local leaders to activate the base and various constituencies.This is not a job for a single leader or committee, but Nebraska Democrats need to take more ownership of the Party statewide and in their communities. Could it make a difference if Nebraska Democratic Party leaders rallied team spirit consistently throughout the state? It’s a daunting challenge for sure. If it was easy, we would not need your leadership.

Obviously, I have more to say on this and other topics that I will get to eventually. In conjunction with team spirit, I have been pondering the role of issue advocacy in building a Democratic voter base in Nebraska. The discouraging Voter Registration situation is an impediment worth some transparent reporting and disciplined scrutiny. If you are interested in the discussion, please join me! 

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King John of England signs Magna Carta at Runnymede 1215.

I am reflecting on the celebration of a historical event that took place 800 years ago. Why you ask? Because it is another thread that weaves through a Nebraska life’s journey I call my “Herstory.” As always, it connects first to 1950s entertainment I watched as a child in Blair, Nebraska. One of my favorite T.V. shows (and there were so many) was “The Adventures of Robin Hood” starring Richard Greene. Apart from the dashing male lead and his storied romance with the lovely Maid Marian, this show introduced some notions of populism and insurgency into my young life. It also launched my life long interest and later study of English History, and some bonus research into my ancestry.

The lessons I learned in viewing this series boil down to: humans can and often will resist and even take collective action when their government exploits and demeans their existence. 

Robin Hood and his band of “Merry Men” were legendary champions of common folk around Sherwood Forest. The locals were being overtaxed and terrorized by the forces of a villainous Sheriff of Nottingham. The Sheriff enforced the decrees of Prince John who was running England in the absence of his brother, the ruling monarch, Richard I “the Lionhearted.”

Richard was apparently busy elsewhere in “The Crusades.” (Without digressing too much, Christian military campaigns had been organized to “rescue” Jerusalem and other holy places in the Near East from Muslim domination. A REALLY long story, if you are interested, Google it or visit a library.)

Focusing on my ruminations this week, the Prince John in the Robin Hood tales later became King John. He was defeated by a rebellion of his Barons at Runnymede. They insisted he sign a charter that came to be known as Magna Carta. This document recognized some rights for some people; i.e., most specifically the Church and his victorious noblemen. The charter memorialized that His Majesty, who had been led to believe his right to rule came directly from God’s will, would no longer be above certain laws. In addition, the rights at issue could be determined in legal proceedings. This has been conceptualized as “the rule of law.” This may not sound like a lot by modern standards. At the time, it was a huge deal. It was such a historic shift in power that John asked the Pope get him out of his agreement. The Pope jumped to his defense, but the arguable”reprieve” was short-lived and did not settle the matter. Needless to say, people were very excited and inspired by the opportunities presented.

 “Quantum Leap” to Nebraska 8 Centuries later

Our Declaration of Independence and Constitution of the United States followed the new path taken in Runnymede 800 years ago. We the People of the United States now understand that we have rights enforceable under laws. Attending elementary school, I learned and patriotically recited the Pledge of Allegiance. Through much repetition over the years, I came to appreciate and depend upon our collective oath to “Liberty and Justice for All.” This small town Nebraska girl took much comfort in the notion that Americans always stood for freedom as a guiding principle. This is one reason why I get so discouraged. We see politicians and community leaders working hard to deny or limit legal rights. The persuasion methods used by these advocates can certainly bother me. Images from a yesteryear of grifters and snake oil sales professionals come to mind. Finally, the continued success of such transparently reactionary forces regrettably tempts me to judge fellow citizens as ignorant and/or gullible. The latter assessment may be true in some cases, but it is not particularly helpful to focus on it.

Some comparisons to Prince/King John, the legendary Sheriff of Nottingham and The Crusades are troubling me today. I can think of elected leaders here in Nebraska who either lack understanding of the law, or see themselves as above the law. They promote partisan campaigns seemingly to ignore the trending of history toward democratic principles of Liberty, Justice and Equality. Some of these advocates may earnestly believe they are on a Divine mission to hold the line. They certainly still voice support for their freedom, public order and unrestrained wealth accumulation. What they fail to accept is that all these principles depend on “the rule of law.” We cannot keep legal protections for ourselves and deny them to others.

Nebraskans sometimes stand on the sidelines because we do not see our own rights immediately threatened. We may compliantly jump on a political bandwagon because we are too busy, angry or fearful to see the social and personal cost. Alternatively, we can stand up for ourselves and others; respecting “the rule of law.” This is the legacy our ancestors gave us to oppose tyrants. Can we resist self-absorbed, scornful and misguided politicians? It would seem to be the best choice. Will we avoid the antagonistic rhetoric, and do our part to promote civil discourse and responsible governing? Our Heartland state will be so much better if we do.

 United States Senator Joseph  McCarthy

As a little girl in Blair, I saw a political demagogue named  Sen. Joseph McCarthy brought down and his followers humbled when responsible Americans stood up for important values like fairness and decency. His methods of reckless allegations and public character assassination turned the tide of political opinion. This moment in my lifelong T.V. viewership became a textbook lesson in how power can be used for good or evil. Sometimes, I feel a longing or nostalgia for those earlier decades when life seemed less complex and stressful. It may be human nature to cling to recollections and sensibilities of past years. If we stay in this “comfort zone” too long, however, we risk forfeiting our future progress and growth. For what it’s worth, I am endorsing the platform of mutual respect and civic responsibility today. Reflecting on “the rule of law” is a very good place to start.

Here are some topical musings on the Magna Carta to further illustrate the reasons we celebrate.

CNN blog “rule of law” and “due legal process”

NPR – horse of due process out of the barn

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   Fred C. Stewart and Bertha Tams Stewart

 Harold and “Janny” Stewart

Losing his parents early in life left an indelible imprint on Harold who became a soft hearted and devoted family man. He worked very hard and enjoyed a “few” beers at home in the evening. He wanted and needed to be at home with his family, particularly when his children were young. He was always the parent whose unconditional love I never doubted even when my behavior or life direction disappointed him. He was a man of few words, and this may be why I remember every moral lesson he ever gave to me. His guiding life principle, which he shared with me throughout my life was: “2 wrongs do not make a right!” In my specific case, “Janny, 2 wrongs do not make a right.” Later I heard, “Jan, remember 2 wrongs don’t make a right.”

This simple and profound parental guidance has helped me resolve many moral questions I have faced or pondered on my life’s journey. It has joined some other wise teachings discovered in adulthood.”Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can’t help them, at least don’t hurt them.” H.H. the 14th Dalai Lama.

MY NEBRASKA VALUES 

Society poses some difficult questions needing policy resolution. This is always an opportunity to find consensus or discover a compromise that divergent interests can agree to accept. In such matters leadership really matters. In our politically polarized and special interest funded nation, we struggle with this.

The Death Penalty is one issue that comes to our government policy makers on a regular basis. The Nebraska Unicameral is considering legislation now. A lot of reasons to abandon the Death Penalty naturally present themselves; moral, practical, economic, legal, etc. Our state, however, still appears to be very divided on the issue. Anyone who is interested, and I do think we all could try to be, can find countless sources of information, analysis and discussion. My own ruminations certainly consider if rationality and logic alone point humanity towards a “tipping point”abolishing this form of punishment.

As always, I reflect on the personal journey that brings me to this crossroads. The Protestant denomination of my upbringing has advocated for abolishing the Death Penalty for over 50 years. Not surprisingly if you have been reading this blog, I only discovered this fact 2 years ago. One of the practices I really admire in the Episcopal church is the content and tone of the sermons. The sermons I experienced have not been at all preachy. They did not focus or lecture on politically divisive moral issues. It seems to me that the congregation is free to study and reflect as individuals. We can read The Bible and Book of Common Prayer, and clergy is available to counsel parishioners who struggle with spiritual choices.

My first introduction to the Death Penalty arose on June 25, 1959. Charles Starkweather, age 20 years, was executed by electric chair in Lincoln, Nebraska. He had been convicted of First Degree Murder having killed eleven people during a road trip/killing spree with a teenage girlfriend. The couple were arrested on January 29, 1958. Until the very day he was executed, the story of his violent crimes, trial, appeals, etc., had not really registered on my childhood radar screen. (My parents were pretty careful not to discuss disturbing information in the presence of their 2 daughters.) When the news of the execution came over the radio, I was surprised to hear some cheers in a home where I was visiting. My surprise is likely explained by feelings of cognitive dissonance. I had learned of The Ten Commandments; most likely through a synergy between Charlton Heston and Vacation Bible School. Celebrating the death of another human being just seemed in conflict with my almost10 year old understanding of morality.

I have previously explained, in some detail, how my values are closely connected to movies and T.V. entertainment watched in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s. My parents both worked in a small town movie theater in Fairfield, Iowa, where our family lived for 2 years. My younger sister and I watched a lot of movies while Mom and Dad were working. One specific memory connects to the Death Penalty.

Actress Susan Hayward won an Academy Award for a 1958 movie “I want to Live!”  This film was based upon a true story of Barbara Graham who was executed in the California gas chamber in 1955. Coincidentally, this film was shown on cable this past week. I also noted a documentary airing on Nebraska public television. I have these recorded on DVR to watch later. It’s intriguing how these “coincidences” occur. When I was younger I suspected I was clairvoyant. Now, I more maturely understand that when I am reflecting on issues of the day, other entities are doing the same. Anyway, I vividly remember that the Hayward movie trailer left troubling impressions before I even experienced the film sometime in the 1960s. A few things caught my attention. I was shocked to see a woman behaving in the indecent, unscrupulous and aggressive manner portrayed. The possibility that a woman could be executed for a crime honestly stunned me! Socialized gender roles of the day sort of assumed that a “lady” would not commit the various crimes depicted. Furthermore, I clearly understood that “gentlemen” should never strike a woman, much less execute her. Men were seen fighting and punishing others in movies and T.V. all the time. Apparently this was expected. Needless to say, I have since learned otherwise in many respects.

   FLOOR OF THE NEBRASKA LEGISLATURE

Photo courtesy of “Nebraska Unicameral Information Office”

There is vocal and intransigent opposition to sentencing reform that has, to date, governed here in my home state. Recent debates have shown a fascinating contrast in decision making styles. One of my Social Work fueled observations boils down to what looks a lot like personality differences. Some of the vocal opponents to abolition of the Death Penalty, and the elected representatives who passionately argue this point of view, reflect what I have learned to be “authoritarian personality.”

A dictionary definition of authoritarian personality would be: a cluster of personality traits reflecting a desire for security and order (e.g., rigidity, unquestioning obedience, scapegoating, desire for structured lines of authority.) Medical Dictionary for the Health Professions and Nursing © Farlex 2012.  I studied both psychology and therapy as a Social Work student. Following my studies, I dove headfirst into a reflection of religious dogma and traditions. I discovered that many spiritual paths were congruent with the Social Work principles I had learned.  One of the touchstones I found along the way was – – Control is an Illusion.

News reports of recent Death Penalty debates at the Nebraska Unicameral likely reveal something about our collective stage of development. I live in Legislative District 15 encompassing Dodge County, Nebraska. We have a brand new State Senator appointed to fill a vacancy arising when our sitting senator was elected to higher office. (With all due respect, please consider the circumstances of a “New Age” of low information voters, and the perennial support for a straight Republican ticket on Nebraska politics.) Recent news has illustrated to me, that in several instances, my newly anointed legislator has not met my inclinations on issues I care a great deal about. In opining on the Death Penalty, he lectured his colleagues and constituents on religious authority, which he presumably believes to be the only governing “Truth.” He also read an account of a particularly gruesome crime. This illustrates to me, aspects of an of authoritarian mindset and a misunderstanding of social comportment and sensibilities. See, Senator Schnoor, L.B. 268, Day 65 Floor Debate April 16, 2015.

When a convicted criminal has committed a particularly heinous and depraved crime, should our only focus be judgment and punishment of the crime and perpetrator? Is there anything else of crucial importance to consider in deciding public policy?

It occurs to me, that humanity is not competent or expected to handle all moral complexities. We are an imperfect species prone to bias and mistakes. We also harshly scorn and even hate others who disagree with us. We sometimes try to take legal rights away from those who offend our personal beliefs. This is not the best way to govern. We have other important considerations to weigh. What does imposing the Death Penalty say about our democratic society? I see much inhumanity in the execution protocols and processes. I also fear confusion, mixed messages and misunderstanding. Our exercise of government authority speaks to us all, including children who will choose our future’s trajectory. How will the status quo affect us?  I appreciate that many look to a higher power for pronouncements on human transgressions. Should our own religious beliefs and faith impose consequences when human judgment so clearly fails us? I am hopeful that Nebraska will join the other states and countries around our planet who have abolished the Death Penalty. If our Criminal Justice system is not working as hoped and needed, I believe we should at least try to fix it.

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As I coasted to college graduation, I uncharacteristically spent some time considering the future. My spouse suggested I look for a job. Seriously? That was certainly not my top priority. I tried an employment agency. An undergraduate degree in Economics from the University of Nebraska at Omaha in 1971 meant nothing, even if I was one of the top students.  I was offered 2 jobs as a Property and Casualty insurance underwriter at the disappointing salary of  $400 – $450 a month!  I suspected I might have done better if I had been a male graduate. Being a lifelong night owl, I was unwilling to get up early and to work by 8 a.m. for that amount of money.

Graduate school seemed an alternative until I discovered a new direction for my life’s journey. I really did not have the math skills to succeed in a graduate program in Economics. This was in a time long ago before personal computers or electronic calculators. My manual calculation skills matched my dreadful typing ability. What should I do?

The Young Lawyers 1969 – 1971.

Once again, a television program became the compass I used to set my course.  There was a show running about young lawyers helping the poor. It was sort of a “Mod Squad” with young lawyers instead of police. I watched it occasionally and noticed there was a streetwise woman lawyer in the mix. So …the idea of going to law school was born. It is helpful to recall that this was undiscovered territory for me.  The adults in my family never attended college. I did not know a single lawyer. I had watched Perry Mason for years. My working class parents, still absorbing my unexpected graduation from college, were incredulous when I reported an interest in law school.

I spent a gap year working the night shift at Hilton Reservation Service. I liked the work and learned about faraway places to visit. I am still working on that bucket list.

I applied to 2 law schools, University of Iowa and Creighton University, and was accepted at both. My enrollment decision was made when my husband extended his college graduation again. There was no Vietnam War reason for his delay anymore. (His Draft lottery number 6 had already been resolved by a 4F classification.) His plans of attending the Masters of Fine Arts program at Iowa were definitely slipping away. At the time, I was not as appreciative of his willingness to support me through law school as I could have been. I regret this now. Anyway, Creighton Law became the plan.

I was noticeably alarmed to learn that my Creighton scholarship would only pay for 1 semester’s tuition or books. The Student Finance office introduced me to the harsh reality of Student Loans. The process was streamlined. Getting myself in the Schoolof Law door was the easy part.

I knew nothing about law school, and did not think to look into it. I naively assumed it was a continuation of college with a focus on “The Law.” Of course, I was one of the students who arrived the first day not knowing I had missed almost 200 pages of assigned reading. We were then assigned seats alphabetically in all classes. Really? This was a bad omen.

The professors did not lecture or share much concrete information about the various Law courses we studied. They did challenge students ; i.e., verbally abuse us, with questions. I became aware that this vacuum of information was “The Socratic Method.” These drills did mirror press interview experiences I faced later in politics. The interrogator asks a series of questions until you embarrass yourself, and then noticeably smirks at your deficiencies. This “communication”style always conflicted with my mother’s earnest guidance on manners.

There were 14 women in my freshman class at Creighton Law – roughly 10% of the total students. One of the women students dropped out before 2 weeks. I often wondered if she made the wise choice. My own rationale for staying was dubious. I had suffered the worst 2 weeks of my life, and it would be for nothing if I did not get a law degree!

Law School Entertainment Therapy

I was blessed with great friends during my Creighton years. We bonded around our stress and deflated egos. We felt collectively vindicated by the movie “The Paper Chase” that proved to the world that we were all being disrespected and victimized. We were good students and graduated at the top of our class. I became a mother 3 weeks into to my senior year. My close friends were very supportive. Most of the faculty pretended not to notice that I was barely able to squeeze into my classroom seat and then absent for 3 weeks.

I became a Feminist in spite of myself. There were several guideposts on this leg of my journey.

I had read a book titled “The Feminist Mystique” by Betty Friedan in my gap year before Creighton. This book resonated with me to an extent I had not experienced up to that point and have not felt again. It explained the underlying low grade sadness I had seen in my mother’s life. It also evidenced some of the obstacles I faced in my own personal goals and relationships. It revealed my current situation in a light I might never have discovered on my own. I am not sure the book would mean so much to a woman of the Millennial generation today. It was the Rosetta Stone for Baby Boomers like myself.

Constitutional Law was a freshman requirement. I was an devoted student of History so I enjoyed this course more than most. At some point in the year, we received a pocket part insert for our already too heavy Con Law casebook. It had a “hot off the press” Supreme Court opinion Roe v. Wade. I learned much later that this case was apparently a really big deal. In typical Janet Elizabeth Stewart fashion I had no clue. I had literally heard nothing about the case before it became assigned reading. I am going to share my personal evolution on reproductive rights, at some point. This particular post will focus on another revelation that solidified my identity as an “Accidental Feminist.”  A defining moment in my political evolution emanated from “The Equal Rights Amendment.”

I had an unbelievably uninformed understanding of the Feminist movement. I belatedly noticed that I gave up my maiden name unnecessarily, which I instantly regretted. Otherwise, I kept some distance from the few so-called “feminists” I encountered in my later college years. These young women seemed to have more interest in my husband who held court in the UNO student center playing Bridge and opining on the issues of the day. One of these women actually scolded me over the telephone for my resistance to her efforts to marginalize my marriage. Apparently, I was too possessive with some lingering Middle Class values. I really did not appreciate the competition or criticism.

One day, I was approached by a Creighton classmate who revealed that several of my law student peers would be travelling to Lincoln to witness the Nebraska Unicameral Legislature’s reconsideration of the Equal Rights Amendment. The ERA was another historical moment that had passed under my personal radar screen. I had not become aware of its passage, the ratification process underway in the States, or that Nebraska had been one of the first states to ratify the amendment to the United States Constitution. Having a mountain of reading assignments, I somewhat reluctantly agreed to join in the pilgrimage. I became a Feminist true believer in Lincoln, Nebraska, the next day.

Arriving at the Unicameral, I witnessed our democratic process firsthand. A line of yellow school buses had transported groups of spectators on both sides of the issue. We crowded into the gallery and watched the spectacle unfold below on the floor of the Legislature. The orchestra appeared to be conducted by a Senator named Richard Proud who, in my memory after some 40+ years, exhibited a smarmy demeanor opposing women like me just seeking some fairness. Some snazzy woman from out-of-state had been brought in to fluff up the egos of male legislators and explain how they had been sold a bill of goods by some of their women colleagues.

Nebraska had actually ratified the ERA quickly having been swayed by the opportunity to “make history” by being the first state legislature to do so. (The half-baked decision making process is something I have seen on more than one occasion at the Nebraska Unicameral.) Hawaii, having a time zone advantage, beat Nebraska to the prize, which was a hard pill for some state senators to swallow. After the fact, groups opposed to gender equality had the opportunity to feverishly protest the outcome. Nebraska rescinded its prior ratification of the ERA – not the first or last time a reactionary public policy decision was swayed by ignorance and fear in the Cornhusker State.

I was heartbroken by what I saw on the Unicameral floor that day. When my group dejectedly returned to Creighton Law, we endured the comments of previously admired professors who patiently explained why the Equal Rights Amendment was not needed. My professional and political life since is a reflection of their mistaken and insulting Conventional Wisdom and legal prophesy espoused on that day. Nebraska legislators and legal scholars abandoned me and other women just when we needed their understanding and support the most. 

For more information about the history and current status of the ERA you can visit:

www.equalrightsamendment.org/

I had been introduced to some institutional sexism upon my arrival at Creighton Law School. It was a challenging environment because there were so many smart students competing for grades. I was a good student in college, and rose to the top in my Economics studies. I was not prepared for my entry into law school and was intimidated by a male dominated culture I found. I was shocked to learn that some of the faculty and student body clearly did not think women students even belonged there.

It’s hard to retrospectively convey the reality to anyone who did not share the time and place. One illustrative example of the atmosphere was the Women’s Restroom. There was a small waiting room of sorts with limited seating where a small number of women students congregated between classes. This lounge was connected to a smaller room with a single toliet. This facility serviced around 30 women students and some staff. Obviously not everyone could be accommodated as promptly as desired. On a positive note, a dozen or so women huddled into small quarters waiting to use the facilities will bond quite a bit. It’s true that I learned how to value other women for the first time in our designated Creighton Law School lavatory.

Brian Camden Stewart Arnold – “The Sunshine of My Life!”

After the birth of my son, I managed to finish off my law studies and faced the depressing reality that I must look for a job. I had student loans to payoff over the next 10 years. The amount of this debt seems modest by today’s standards, but $6700 represented half of my first annual salary as a lawyer. I was concerned about my chances to land any job in the Legal profession. I had interviewed for summer law clerk positions the year before. My half-hearted efforts were unsuccessful. Law firms expressed some concern that I would not be “tough enough.” There is more than a little irony there. One firm felt I could not handle the demands of their labor relations “defense” practice. I had no regrets about this characterization because I really did not see myself as a management stooge. Another firm expressed concern about whether I could handle their criminal defense work. One of the partners asked 2 pertinent questions. What did my father do for a living? What did I use for my birth control? I was really offended by the latter question not realizing until later that I had been sitting in that interview already pregnant.

The last humiliating/amusing encounter came in the final chapter of my Senior year. One day, as I was studying in the Law Library, a Creighton Law Associate Dean approached to dissuade me from applying for a job. The position would be at a particular Omaha firm he was personally associated with on some professional basis. He was sure that, with a new baby and all, I would not want to work 80 hours a week. He had me there. The amusement comes into the story because of the further explanation given.  The Dean spoke to me about this “opportunity” with some urgency and embarrassment. His firm had somewhat belatedly just posted the position with the Student Placement office. Thinking very highly of themselves they would only interview Creighton Law students placed in the “Top Ten.” Apparently I was the only Senior still available who met this criteria. Every other eligible applicant had already landed a job offer. Akward! I happily advised the Dean I indeed was not interested in pursuing his firm’s indentured servitude.

I approached graduation day with few employment prospects. My parents flew back to Nebraska for the BIG DAY with a sense of amazement. Their meek and conversationally challenged daughter was going to be a lawyer. Minutes before we departed to the Civic Center for the ceremony, I received a call and accepted an offer to become the Clerk of the Nebraska Court of Industrial Relations. This was my dream job. I would work for a small state agency administering public employee collective bargaining laws. I would make enough money to buy a small economy car, and pay for rent, daycare and my student loans. 

For the first time in 3 years of miserable academic suffering, my law school decision became TOTALLY WORTH IT!

NEXT UP: some random political observations and thoughts after a decade in Nebraska politics. The missing pieces of my Accidental Feminist “Herstory” will be weaved into these reflections, not necessarily in chronological order.

The post Accidental Feminist Part 3 appeared first on NebraskaWomen'sConciliationProject.

RECAP I closed out the 1960’s by defying my working class family’s wishes BIG TIME.

UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA AT OMAHA 1969 – 1971

While attending the University of Nebraska at Omaha, I impulsively married another student who I hardly knew. It amazes me now to comprehend the uncharacteristic courage I discovered in September 1969. I turned my back on a socialized conformity to launch my adulthood.  A lot of my peers did the same, but I was probably more timid and shy than most.

My birth family really did not preach values to me in any overbearing way. I noticed Patriotism was important to us and we were Protestants. Mother shared some early instruction on how to behave as a  lady.  “Little lady” challenges exist in my earliest memories. As a toddler, and much to Elaine Stewart’s embarrassment, I showed off my ruffly new underpants on a visit to downtown merchants. She had taken such pride in dressing me up, I incorrectly guessed she wanted the folks to see the whole outfit. Mommy was amused, but explained my awkward social transgression. She hoped I would be more demure in the future. I mostly complied and still do for the most part.

Following my hasty marriage to Bruce Arnold, I moved into the basement of my new in-law’s North Omaha home. My trendy bargain basement wardrobe and 30 pairs of shoes were added into my young husband’s closet. Our space was in a cinder block room with temperatures that ranged from cool to cold depending on the season. The bathroom facilities were spartan and icy in Winter. I had some experience with freezing toilet and showers at one of my family’s rental abodes so I knew what to expect.

MY EXCELLENT EDUCATION ADVENTURES

The Fall Semester had already started at UNO so Bruce and I returned to our separate collegiate lives. He drove me to school in the mornings and dropped me near my first class. I attended class and socialized with my friends. I continued to work in the University Library. I could see Bruce around lunch time. One day he dropped by the snack bar to announce that he would be going to a War Moratorium in Washington D.C. in November. I was encouraged to attend and we had room for 3 friends in our car to share travel expenses.

Citroën – our ride was actually a rusty and faded yellow

Our journey to D.C. relied upon a vehicle quickly repaired by Bruce and his “Papa” who had an affinity for French cars called Citroën. The car did fine but we I think we ran out of gas in a snowstorm in Illinois. My friends,  Curtis Lybarger, Deb Swearingen and Theresa Varga,  shared some disappointment and panic with me. Most of our sugary snacks for the trip were consumed that first night. Our journey took much longer than planned as we rolled through mountains in a blizzard. Thankfully, we arrived safely at our destination at my family’s apartment in Landover, MD.

MORATORIUM NOVEMBER 15, 1969

This was my first home visit since marrying Bruce two months earlier. My parents and younger sister had not attended my wedding ceremony due to short notice and financial circumstances. We arrived in Landover late Friday.  I introduced Bruce and my 3 guests before we all tried to get some sleep. Bruce and I were assigned my sister’s bedroom. Jodey was relocated to the couch in the living room. She barely tolerated my +three companions in nearby sleeping bags on the floor.

The next morning my parents inquired about our plans to join the march that was already well underway. They had been listening to some news reports on the radio. I knew the U.S. Highway 50 route we always took to drive into the District, but we otherwise had no logistical clue. My Dad, in a huge gesture of really good sportsmanship, offered to drive and drop us off. What transpired the rest of the day was literally historic. There is really no way to adequately share the experience of joining the activities of a group of humanity numbering at least 500,000 by official reports, and arguably much larger. The sheer size of the group was exhilarating  and terrifying at the same time. There were political speakers and celebrity entertainers.  At one point the throng around me started energetically swaying and dancing to a Blue Grass performance by Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs. The possibility of being trampled in a huge crowd seemed eminent. We departed just in time to see an altercation between a militant group and police. This reminded me of T.V. coverage of the protests at the 1968 Democratic Party National Convention in Chicago. Witnessing official “crowd control” of young adults like myself was a sad and unsettling image impossible to forget.

The politics of my little circle of friends became more radicalized, at least by UNO standards. For now, I am going to share just one other memorable experience in my UNO college years. It did not require cross country travel, but left a lasting impression. It relates to my personal experience with a Nebraska political figure. This public servant is regularly in the news, and was covered extensively just last week. It is entirely coincidental that my “Herstory” intersects with his personality this week, as this blog topic has been outlined for over a month.

MY ARNOLD READING LIST

Upon returning to our undergraduate life at the Arnold household, Bruce gave me a copy of The Autobiography of Malcolm X. He explained this was on his required reading list. This seemed a bit autocratic, but I was a constant reader and complied somewhat submissively. The book was illuminating and greatly informed my political perspective. I have not personally instituted a reading list, but this book would certainly be on it. I learned of a famous man whose name I had heard, but whose life story I did not really know. He was born in Omaha, led a hard life in Detroit and joined a group called Black Muslims. He became an influential and inspiring political leader. He was ultimately assassinated.

Bruce later announced that Omaha political activist Ernie Chambers was coming to the UNO Library. His topic included a reflection on the life of Malcolm X. I enthusiastically attended with a couple friends. As was our custom, we sat a bit apart from Bruce to avoid embarrassment. He sometimes launched into radical political commentary that we did not fully understand, or necessarily want to endorse. Mr. Chambers’ remarks were thoughtful and his regard for Malcolm X was something I understood. Toward the end of the presentation his rhetoric became critical of “bourgeois white girls” who hung out with male student activists. I heard that we were considered political dilettantes. This hit pretty close to home and I believe he was looking directly at me when he said it.

There are 2 points I want to share about this “close encounter” with Ernie Chambers, who is now a Nebraska State Senator and arouses some controversy on occasion. First, there was more than a little truth in what he said about my political commitment. Second, despite these circumstances, or maybe because of it all, I felt totally demeaned and bullied when he said it.

My radical politics admittedly did have a lot to do with fashion statements and socializing with interesting young men – some of whom, in retrospect, seem pretty chauvinistic. Ernie’s comments appeared to be an intentional put down that day. I am not sure we totally deserved his scorn. We were intelligent lifelong learners with an interest in politics and the shared desire to help make society better. We were not members of “The Establishment.” He may have intended to challenge us with his remarks. I could not help but apply 1950’s lessons on manners. Mr. Chambers may have missed the memo from my mother. Our political education would continue. Senator Chambers is now considered by many to be a champion of women’s issues. I appreciate his legislative record, and feel some irony when other women sing his praises.

The following Nebraska History link may provide some historical context to our early 70’s collision of cultures:

http://nebraskahistory.org/exhibits/we_the_people/separate_not_equal.htm

My next piece, which must now be PART THREE, will connect how the Creighton Law School years fueled my continued Accidental Feminist journey. My spouse has mentioned that my experiences seems to parallel “Forrest Gump.” It is a personal narrative that reveals some of the political currents of my generation. It may be the most truthful explanation of my perspective.

The post Accidental Feminist Part 2 appeared first on NebraskaWomen'sConciliationProject.

My life’s journey really changed direction during 1967-1969. I received a letter announcing I had earned a scholarship to attend the University of Omaha. This opportunity was totally unexpected. I did not expect to go to college. The College Prep study offered at Omaha South High helped me avoid business courses. My mother worked in clerical, but I lacked confidence in my ability to ever master typing and shorthand. My favorite courses were Social Studies – History, Economics, Government. I had an almost photographic memory at the time that made it easy to memorize. I enjoyed Biology except for one embarassing moment in 8th grade. Other science offerings with a lot of experiments and analysis were too challenging. I lost touch with Math somewhere in 9th Grade. Chemistry and Geometry became problematic. I certainly could have done better if I did homework. That was never going to happen because I treasured my after school and evening hours of freedom. I really did not pay much attention in class. Daydreaming was still a major focus of my school day. I lacked motivation and discipline. English was always a mixed bag for me. I loved reading and could do this rapidly. I hated writing and did not learn much grammar after the 8th Grade. I signed up for Latin class to attend the festive Spring Banquet. I discovered no talent for foreign languages after a brief introduction to Spanish in 8th Grade. There seemed to be something about verbal learning. I could hear pronunciation but never repeat it correctly.

 Looking forward to high school –

brush rollers worn in public because home hair dryers worked in slow motion!

My family did not have the resources to send me to college. Neither of my parents attended college. My father received his education at trade school via the GI Bill following his WWII military service. Movies and television programs at the time depicted women serving in the military. Enlisting in the military offered a fallback plan if I did not get married soon. I preferred the Navy and Marines because I liked the female uniforms. The various shows I watched suggested administrative and medical work would be available. I was obviously concerned about my chances of mastering clerical skills. A medical position intrigued me, but I had one fear to overcome. Much to my humiliation, I had fainted at the sight of blood in 8th grade Science class. The teacher brought in some beef heart and lungs to examine. My classmates laughed when I keeled over with cotton dress skirt flying over my head to reveal nerdy underwear! A medical career might be a stretch.

My scholarship saved me from a really tough decision. I was shocked when my Dad sat me down and advised that he did not want me to enlist. His explanation was that it was no place to be for a young woman. I do not recall that he gave much of a detailed explanation. He did say he had met and observed some pretty “hard” women during his war service. I got the impression his concern related to proper gender behavior and sexual morality. My father strongly disapproved of this choice and I could lose whatever respect he had for me.

My mother also sat me down. She strongly urged me to take the scholarship. She explained that she had turned down her own opportunity to go to college. She chose to get an office job instead and said she always regretted it. I really did not need to be convinced. I happily accepted the scholarship because I did not want to go to work for a paycheck.

I had worked a summer job at my dad’s insistence when I turned 16. I was totally shocked when he took me for a Goodrich ice cream and broke the news to me. The harsh reality was my family was strapped for cash and I had to get a job. I became a carhop at the A&W a few blocks from my home. I learned how to make change and balance multiple large root beers on trays while sashaying out to cars in a parking lot. It was hard and sticky work. My starched white cotton blouses smelled of soft serve, sodas and fried food by the end of my shift. We did have some fun at closing time. We gravitated to the soda fountain at Union Station still open late at night. I had the satisfaction of buying some new clothes at Richman Gordman and purchasing new glasses for myself and my little sister. I dated the owner’s son who was visiting for the Summer. Pretty exciting.

  My Senior Prom –

that hairdo was professionally coiffed!

But I digress. I was off to college in 1967. My family moved away when my dad got a great job as a skilled trade instructor for the Job Corps. An Aunt and Uncle in South Omaha were generous enough to invite me to stay with them. I learned how to do some household chores for the first time. A guy from my South High Latin class lived nearby and had a car. We became best friends and I was spared a long bus ride with transfers.

My memory served me well and I evolved into a very good student. Early morning classes were difficult. I almost lost my scholarship when I got 2 C’s my first semester. One was in an 8 a.m. typing class my Dad insisted I take to “have something to fall back on.” The other terrible grade was in French class. My Art & Sciences program required a semester in foreign language. French seemed so romantic, but verbal learning skills failed me once again. I actually spaced off the final in this class. I forgot to study and knew I could fail. I took a makeup test and my instructor fortunately had booked a ski trip she was anxious to enjoy. She generously gave me a C after I shared my scholarship situation. She did suggest that I never take another French class. That was the last semester when I had any troubles academically. I wisely dropped the Chemistry class I signed up for Sophomore year. I wanted to hang with some really entertaining friends, but just could not take that academic risk.

My Sophomore year witnessed a cultural shift of great magnitude. The dress code was flaunted and some students became rebellious about the Vietnam War. I had a tolerable student job in the Library. I did not pledge a sorority because I was penniless and could not understand the point really. One day a charismatic young man in Army fatigues and combat boots approached me in the Library. He mentioned that I looked like the Maizie Bird in a Dr. Suess book. I wore British Mod false eyelashes at the time, which were still marginally fashionable. I had updated my wardrobe a bit to include some more current “flower child” fashion. I soon followed friends into wire rimmed glasses.

I bumped into that same flirtatious lad later in the year when my group of friends ventured into the Old Market. Commercial development had come back to this historical district of Downtown Omaha. I remember a bookstore, art gallery and head shop in the area of brick warehouses and produce markets. I found the guy from my library encounter playing a bongo drum on the Northwest corner of 11th and Howard Streets. We talked briefly and he suggested if I came back the next week we could go out. I did return and he had a car at his disposal. His younger brother and a friend were along for the ride and one of them played a guitar.

I made a life changing choice that night. I survived what could have been a risky trip into the woods with 2 high school boys and a college guy I really had just met. I was awfully naive in accepting the invitation. I pray young women today find the good sense to make safer choices. Perhaps, I had a streetwise South O ability to judge character? I was pretty shaken when I later realized the risk I had taken, but it all turned out O.K. The younger guys made a campfire and played music. I somewhat unwisely climbed a tree with my date, but arrived home safely later that night. The newly named University of Nebraska at Omaha semester ended soon thereafter. I took an airplane to a Maryland visit with my parents and younger sister that Summer.

  Summer fun in 1969

I eventually learned the name of my knew love interest – Bruce Arnold. He came to the attention of my Aunt and Uncle who expressed disapproval of his longer hair and student radical attire. It did not help that an article appeared in the Omaha World Herald reporting his family’s connection to The Peace and Freedom Party and a community political leader named Ernie Chambers. This was all new territory for my family. I had seen the aftermath of D.C. riots in 1968 when I visted my family in Maryland. My impression of my family’s politics at the time was patriotic, socially conservative and working class Democratic leaning. That same year, we shared the sad loss of Robert Kennedy, Jr. together. His casket entered D.C. by train as we watched from the rooftop of our transitional hotel residence. I have come to appreciate how sharing memories like that can build bridges between generations.

I exchanged correspondence with Bruce Arnold the next Summer. He also travelled to the East Coast but in the Boston area. My home visit was not that exciting. The age of majority being 20 years in Nebraska, I had the legal right to make some decisions for myself. My cocktail preference became rum and coke. I sunbathed during the day and watched T.V. at night. I decided to return to Omaha for Summer School and wrote Bruce to return home so I would not be too bored. He complied and thereby missed what would have been a historic side trip to the Woodstock Festival in New York. The Summer class I intended to enroll in was already closed so I started a lunch counter job at the downtown Brandeis Store. My social life became complicated when my Aunt and Uncle announced I could not date the Arnold kid and reside in their home. (I suspect they discussed the situation with my absent parents.) While awaiting Bruce’s return, I started going out with boys whose more affluent families facilitated sports car cruising. My grownup family supervisors may have predicted my readiness to make a change.

I had a decision to make before going back to UNO for my Junior year. I carefully weighed my options and decided to break it off with Bruce. The next time we went out, I explained that we would have to break up because of my family’s ultimatum. He surprised me by declaring his love and proposing marriage. We could live in his parents’ basement until we graduated from college. He was going to be a senior and said he was aspiring to eventually become a Unitarian minister. I could not turn him down. He was very compelling in an offbeat masculine way. I was in love and he had missed Woodstock for me.

           Dress   Cake     Minister with Bride & Groom

We quickly planned a wedding to occur 3 weeks later. I waited a week to tell my parents of the upcoming nuptials. They did not have the money to attend. Bruce’s parents hosted an engagement party for their family. I was somewhat startled to overhear his older sister and father speak of stockpiling weapons for the upcoming revolution. My Aunts and Uncles in Omaha graciously attended my ceremony at the First Unitarian Church. I wore a white lace A-line dress my Aunt purchased for $1.50 at the Brandeis bargain basement. I baked a small 3 tiered wedding cake and bought 12 bottles of sparkling Cold Duck wine for the celebration. I discovered Bruce was a poet and he produced an impressive poem titled “Wedding Song.” I suspected he may have authored it much earlier for someone else. I asked my new best girlfriend to be the bridesmaid and sing a love song I liked from the 1963 movie “How The West Was Won.” I think she also sang an early Elton John hit. Our candlelit ceremony at twilight was actually quite beautiful. We drank the Cold Duck, sampled the cake and danced to his younger brother’s band before driving to Lincoln, Nebraska. We spent 2 nights in an economy motel, visited a museum and went to the movie “Goodbye Columbus.” We returned to his parents’ basement and our UNO studies. I had just married a charismatic young man I had gone out with a total of 3 times.

NEXT UP: ACCIDENTAL FEMINIST PART TWO

The post 1967-1969 Interlude appeared first on NebraskaWomen'sConciliationProject.

This post will seem too personal and anatomical to some. My motive is not to offend or generate controversy. I just realize that it is probably necessary to share more childhood memories to put my political journey into perspective. I am usually discrete and demure so I am sure my reflections will be pretty harmless, at least by 21 Century standards. This chapter continues my explanation of why I became Another Accidental Feminist.

The easiest “secret decoder” for my personal history and social perspective is to remember that I was born 5 months and 166 days before the 1950’s came into existence. My early childhood years were lived in an Eastern Nebraska town with a U.S. Census population of 3815 growing to 4931 by 1960. My parents were Midwestern Protestants only a generation removed from the latter Victorian Era. The only reliable mention of sexuality before my Puberty was a little booklet I received in 5th grade at the public school I attended. Actually, a neighbor boy had mentioned something a few years earlier but it all sounded preposterous. His understanding of the anatomy was actually somewhat mistaken. This could have been confusing if I had given any credence to what he was saying. Anyway, the 5th grade “reveal” was a jolt to my understanding of gender. One afternoon near the end of the school year, the teacher announced that the boys in my class were to report to the gym. To this day, I have no idea how the boys spent the segregated time afforded to their group.

On the day in question, the girls watched a short black and white film strip. We were then sent home with booklets. The official nature of this communication process was both exciting and embarrassing. My sister and I had not been especially encouraged to initiate conversations with adults in our home. I was not even that good of a listener back then. Because I am somewhat compliant by nature, I did show my mother the booklet and briefly reported the surprising class room segregation and film screening. I would describe my Mom’s reaction as pretty compassionate. I had a sense she knew this all was coming. Mom basically confirmed the truth of the information I had been given without going into detail. She explained that this was a natural part of being a woman. The information I had just been given was generally known by grown ups living in the United States, presumably including my Father. I was not really sure about that circumstance since the boys at my school had all been excluded from the teaching. I have since asked a few adult male friends what they learned on that same occasion. Perhaps, they were also given some pertinent information? To date, no specific recollections have been shared. Guys look honestly perplexed by the question. I guess it was not a such big deal or worthy of note in their lives. Maybe they just went out for ice cream?

This is a 1957 publication but my recollection has more “pink” around the edges.

Mom encouraged me to read the booklet, which I did several times. There were some diagrams of reproductive organs. I had a younger sister, but had never heard anything about biology related to her birth. When the reality of the female process described set in, it all sounded messy, embarrassing and inconvenient. There was apparently a direct connection to pregnancy and motherhood. It was a bit helpful to get this information. The booklet mentioned that fathers also had some role in the reproductive process. This was the official explanation given in a nutshell. I continued to ponder whether the boys in my class were told anything at all. I certainly would not be asking any of them or my Father for details. I had exhausted what my Mother wanted to say. Maybe she knew more. I formed an impression that I would be married some day and my husband might update me on the specifics.

MICKEY MOUSE CLUB

My prepubescent self deduced that at some point in the not too distant future, boys and girls would develop more interest in socializing. I got a sense of what this might look like from watching “The Mickey Mouse Club.” 1950’s T.V. had several boy characters in my age range, but I lost my heart to the older Spin Evans of MMC’s “The Adventures of Spin and Marty.” The Marty character was a rich kid, but Spin was cool and shared working class roots with me. The first year of this serial focused on horses and the evolution of a youthful rivalry into a friendship between the title characters. The next cycles of “New” and “Further Adventures” introduced the lovely Annette Funicello into the mix. Some rivalry came back into the picture. The suggestion that 2 boys would compete for the affection of a girl seemed pretty appealing. Of course, I was no Annette, but who was? Later programs featuring Annette depicted 2 girls competing for the attention of the same boy, which was more congruent with information I had gleaned from entertainment exposure. I experienced both of these basic scenarios as I lived through the 1960’s. The remarkable thing about my own adolescence was that between the 5th grade booklet and high school, I received little authoritative scientific information on human reproduction. I did surreptitiously read a relative’s Encyclopedia Britannica one Summer, but the information was sketchy at best.

OMAHA SOUTH HIGH 1966

Without going into too much depth, the additional information I received on this topic from my family was minimal. The basic goal was unequivocal and easy to remember. Mother just mentioned that she and my Father assumed I understood that a girl should not get pregnant before marriage. This “conversation” occurred sometime while I was in high school, possibly my Sophomore year. There was also a special co-ed Hi-Y group meeting announcing this same guidance. The implication was that self control would be the key to compliance. Of course, the particulars on how one would actually get pregnant or avoid it in a particular situation were never disclosed.  I had picked up some rudimentary information, but it was hardly comprehensive. Sexual behavior and contraception were not suitable topics for discussion even among my best girlfriends.

Contraception was not an option for girls like me. My financially challenged family really had no money for routine health care. I had to wait 2 years to get glasses. My medical examinations and dental care was sporadic and only scheduled when specifically needed for school enrollment. I received 50 cents per school day for lunch. I never gave much thought to any of this. The truth of the matter is I did not hear much about birth control until I married in college. I followed some T.V. news in my high school and early college years – Civil Rights, even Vietnam caught my focus, but the whole reproductive health planning deal did not come to my attention. The FDA approved the Pill for contraception in 1960 and the United States Supreme Court affirmed a married couples’ right to use contraception in Griswold v. Connecticut (1965). These developments did not even get on my personal radar screen.

Some of my classmates faced the consequences of teenage pregnancy. Dropping out of high school was pretty much a given back then. I heard tales of teenage marriages with new dads having to work at low wage jobs providing little opportunity for their family’s future. Celebrity Ricky Nelson from “The Adventures of Ossie and Harriet” seemed to work it out following some initial scandal. He was a rich kid and had resources my peer group lacked. Unplanned pregnancy was risky business for a working class teen in the 1960’s.

Anyone perusing this story for a contrite confession of teenage transgressions will be disappointed. My lack of information on human reproduction did not present any problems for me. I was blessed with one pregnancy in my life that surprised me 5 years into my first marriage and halfway through my law school education. I share all this TMI to introduce a topic central to my political “Herstory.” I lived my early Nebraska life in a bubble of 20th Century naivete and ignorance that did not prepare me for adulthood, gender relations, or political engagement. How then did I evolve into a Nebraska Democratic Party “personality” associated with Feminism?

This is where the story gets a bit interesting, if not fascinating to me. I will get into it more in PART TWO and future blogs, but for now let’s just say it concerns my experiences as a young wife, university studies, Law School, my legal career, Nebraska Democratic Party activists and a certain Lincoln Journal Star reporter.

The post Accidental Feminist appeared first on NebraskaWomen'sConciliationProject.

1950’s Micki and me.

My early Elementary School years were not that helpful. I was a painfully shy child who daydreamed a lot. Sitting in a classroom was excruciating for me. I had a running mental picture of more interesting diversions. My youthful fantasies were fueled by what I learned watching T.V. and movies, and also reading comic books. We are talking The Lone Ranger, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, Sky King, and also grown up offerings like My Little Margie, I Love Lucy, Our Miss Brooks, Leave it to Beaver, The Bob Cummings Show, The Jack Benny Program, The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet, and The Ed Sullivan Show immediately come to mind. My first celebrity crush was Howdy Doody closely followed by Peter Pan. The debut of The Mickey Mouse Club was one of the most thrilling days of my young life. The George Burns and Gracie Allen Show was one of my favorites, and I think I know why. George Burns watched his wife and neighbors get into wacky situations and “broke the fourth wall” sharing his observations directly with the audience. This theatrical device always intrigues me to this day. Also, George Burns seemed to truly love his wife Gracie and she conveyed some wisdom apart from the wacky escapades.

On the comic book front, I habitually read Archie, Betty and Veronica, Superman, Batman, Aquaman, and Wonder Woman. My favorite superhero was The Flash, I do not recall any reason why. I owe my comic book exposure to my best cousin Micki who was my childhood mentor having lived a year and few months longer than me. My parents did not buy comic books but Micki had a large collection that came to me in bulk for Summer binge reading.

I am sure there is a lot of research on the gender role socialization that evolved from ALL this entertainment. I have read some of it. Needless to say, the expectations I formed for my own existence were pretty limited by my perceived deficiencies. Movie Star was on the top of the aspirations, but it was hard to really see that as a promising goal. Teacher was not so appealing because I suffered through most of my own schooling. Nursing and Secretarial skills seemed pretty difficult and challenged my perceived abilities. Homemaker seemed possible, but I was not sure it was my own mother’s and her close friends’ first choice. Maybe she and her friends knew something I could not see. My Mom’s title for her full time job was always “house wife.” My childhood view of this career was obviously at bit romanticized. In my mind, the major appeal was you did not have to go to school. You stayed home during the day, spent some time on the phone chatting with friends, and you could watch some T.V. The cleaning, cooking, sewing, and laundry duties seemed doable because I did not appreciate the skill and science involved.

But somehow my journey did not go down the path I imagined in my childhood. What happened? I have some thoughts…

MY FIRST JOURNEY INTO FEMINISM

When I was in possibly the 3rd Grade, my parents made a switch from the Methodist to the Episcopal Church. This was probably wise because the congregation membership was less and we could be bigger deals and have more fun. St. Mary’s was just across the street on my block and we had to walk way around the corner and then cross the street to First Methodist. The Episcopal Church was cooler because you had to kneel, wear a hat or scarf, and you could go up to the altar for blessings when your parents took Communion. I earned a few special little medals for learning dogma like the Nicene Creed. Anyway, one year I noticed that a pretty blonde girl was selected to portray St. Mary at Christmas. I obviously did not fill that bill. Then one year, my Mom came to me to announce I had been cast as Mary and that she would coach me on the lengthy Bible passages I would have to memorize. Forgetting for the moment that there was no reason to think I could master this assignment, I immediately understood a few things. My Mom was really into this challenge and her ego would be riding on my performance. Also, when it came to memorizing, my not blonde or particularly pretty self had a shot at the prize. I remember getting through the performance and my Mom did say she was proud. I probably got another little medal. The lesson I learned that day was that I could be smarter than some other little ladies. If I applied this new talent at school, I might get some attention and rewards. This is a aha moment in my “Herstory.”

WOMEN VOTING IN NEBRASKA

Nebraska women have important political history. I remember my Mom going to the polls in the ’50s. She took me with her because this is what some of the moms would do. She probably took my younger sister too, but I have no memory of this. Anyway, voting was a really big deal for my Mom. She would get really dressed up even more so than for weekly church. I could tell how proud my mother was to cast her ballot. It was a choice she made for herself. Even my Dad explained that she made up her own mind and this was her prerogative. I later learned that I had 2 grandmothers who lived as adults in my Country and State at a time they were denied the right to vote. My paternal grandmother died in childbirth soon after the 19th Amendment to the United States Constitution was passed. I doubt she voted, but I have no living relatives to ask. My Uncle Phil reports that my maternal grandmother Ina exercised her voting rights. He recalls that she was a Democrat and my Grandpa Joe was a Republican. I know several married couples today in Nebraska who agree to disagree on their political affiliation. The thought that my own grandmother chose this circumstance for herself delights me.

SUFFRAGIST MOVEMENT

Over the last decade, I have learned a little about the Women’s Suffrage campaign in Nebraska.What I learned was an eye opener. I guess I was not necessarily surprised to learn that certain religious and ancestry groups actively opposed giving Nebraska women the right to vote. I read that a handful of Suffragists marched down Main Street in Fremont and the Sheriff put them in jail. No big surprise there. What initially did surprise me was that organized opposition to Women’s Suffrage in Nebraska came from the Democratic Party. When I speak to women’s groups, I ask which political party they believe opposed Women’s Suffrage in Nebraska. As of today, the overwhelming response, even in bipartisan gatherings, has been “Republican!” As I read some more history and reflected upon my own experience in Nebraska Democratic politics, this discovery did make some sense to me. I am sure I will be reflecting more on these observations in future blogs.

For today, here is a download link to one article published in Nebraska State Historical Society’s NEBRASKA HISTORY about Women’s Suffrage in Nebraska:

http://www.nebraskahistory.org/publish/publicat/history/full-text/NH1999Anti-Suffrage.pdf

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I guess at this point in my life, I would describe myself as a “Nebraska Democratic Party personality.” I am 65 years old and mostly retired from my profession and politics. I am married, the mother of a 40 year old son and we have 4 grandsons. I have just one sibling, a sister 4 years younger who lives and works in Florida. She has one daughter who also lives in Florida. I am now the proud Great Aunt of 2 adorable identical twin girls who are approaching their 1^st birthday.

I have two 3 ½ year old Lhasa Apso doggies named Sam and Sid. I suspect I will be posting lots of family pictures.

My Life.

I am a child of the 1950s, a native Nebraskan who spent my early childhood in Blair. During my early childhood, my Father owned a small Radio & TV repair business. My parents moved to Omaha in 1963 and I became a “SOG” or South Omaha Girl. I have now lived in Fremont with my husband Richard Register for the past 23 years. This Eastern Nebraska environment greatly influenced my personality and perspective.

Over the years, I came to value what I perceived to be the strength and strong values of Nebraskans. I like to think I am thoughtful and independent in my views. I am also proud of my persistence. I worked very hard over the past 40 years to complete my education, raise my child, and pursue a challenging career. My first grownup job was in state government. Insurance claims and litigation was then the focus of a corporate law practice for the almost 27 years. I have degrees in Economics, Law and Social Work. I thought my academic background and life experience would give me a broad background from which to tackle important work in politics. In retrospect, this view was pretty naïve.

I ran in three races for political office over the past decade. I was a Congressional candidate in 2004, and pursued Nebraska statewide offices in 2010 (Secretary of State) and 2014 (Attorney General.) My community service over the past two decades has been primarily in the fields of child welfare, domestic abuse and mediation.

My Perspective.

As I travel throughout Nebraska speaking with people, the most common question I am asked is why I decided to run for office. Most politicians get this question. I invested a decade of my life and campaigned not once, not twice, but 3 times. I have to tell a bit about my family history to begin to answer this question. My parents Harold and Elaine Stewart were married at the end of my father’s service in the army during World War II. Elaine was a very bright woman who passed on a college scholarship to start a clerical office job in Washington, DC. She found her 1940s working and social life very rewarding. Once my Father was discharged and they returned to Nebraska, a decision was made that Elaine would stay home and raise a family. Society did not fully value or fairly compensate the important work our mothers did in the home. While my mother fulfilled her role, even as a child I sensed that she had some regrets about the independence and tangible rewards she lost along the way.

 1950’s Mom and Me.

I am part of a generation of women who have seen our traditional roles change in very significant ways. I believe this experience is the greatest strength of my public engagement. The evolution in my own development gave me a different perspective from career politicians and government bureaucracies currently dominating the political scene.

I spent my entire adult life competing in fields that males traditionally dominate. I learned how to survive on my own terms. My experience was that as more women entered my fields, cultural beliefs and the rules of engagement evolved in mostly positive ways. I strongly believe government and our traditional political party system have benefited and will continue to benefit from this type of change. Our political institutions could have a broader perspective more representative of our nation. The reason I ran for political office was really because I thought “it’s time.” I was eager to put my education, training and life experience to work. I wanted to honor the contribution of our mothers and grandmothers, helping make their dreams of equality and a better society a reality.

    2014
                                                               

I believed voters would be ready to support a qualified woman candidate for higher office. I still believe this and we have seen some recent validation of this premise. For a number of reasons my own campaigns crashed and burned. Sharing some of this “Herstory” might be interesting and certainly could be a productive process for me. At least I hope so. My goal will be to share my personal journey and reflections with as much honesty, kindess and empathy as I can. One of my middle aged priorities is to promote manners. The importance of good manners was stressed by my Mother throughout the 1950s and 1960s. I did not always heed Elaine’s advice at the time. Now it honestly perplexes me that, as a society, we do not optimize the use of these social tools that cost nothing and make such a difference.                                                                                                                                                            

My personal political agenda can be charted somewhere on the feminist scale. I understand that the Democratic Party might have a demographic advantage in some elections if we could persuade more Nebraska women to vote. I did not come upon this understanding myself, but from reading a lot of research and campaign plans of groups focusing on women voters, e.g., The Voter Participation Center’s Women’s Voice Women’s Vote. Current voter registration in Nebraska reflects close to a majority of Republicans. A Democratic candidate could still win with support from Non-Partisan voters and some Republicans. A lot of Republicans tell me they “vote for the person, not the party.” I really do not know how true this is or ever was, but I do know a number of Nebraskans who espouse this old chestnut. In many ways, I believe the Nebraska Democratic Party, and its various constituencies, have forgotten how to nurture and build the coalitions needed to win in the 21^st Century. I do not have all the answers, but I have reengineered a slogan: “If it’s broken, why not at least try to fix it?”

I met a lot of people on the campaign trail who are discouraged or angered by politics. My answer has always been that if we want our democratic society to work we must share the responsibility. Finding fault and opting out of the political system will never get us where we need to be. No elected official or political party will solve the challenges that face us as a nation. I do think respecting and helping one another would be a good place to start. What if we actively participate by voting, support candidates we believe in and hold our elected representatives accountable for the choices they make on our behalf? Could we then see a country work so much better in my lifetime? That’s why I am writing this blog. Along the way, I hope you will share your own hopes for the future. I happen to be a professionally trained listener. I am also an aspiring senior citizen social media maven. You can find me on Twitter @fremontdiva and my Pinterest Boards pull together a pretty complete picture of who I am and what is important to me. Over the past decade, I have rebranded myself as “the Fremont Diva,” a story for another blog or two. I will get into the “Conciliation” piece of this project in due course. I do intend to talk about tolerance, respect, shared interests and patience.

Today I am just introducing myself as that Janet Stewart and this is my project.

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