Kathleen Marple Kalb's Blog
July 2, 2025
DO THEY LET GIRLS DO THAT?
Do they let girls do that?
More than a few decades ago, I asked that question as I sat in the back of my mother’s Buick listening to the CBS Radio Network News, as a man with that old-school Voice of G-d delivery declaimed the top-of-hour headlines.
And I decided that if they did, I would.
Years later, standing behind another deep-voiced anchor at KDKA Radio, listening to him read my words less well than I would have, I remembered those days in the Buick, and realized it was time to get out there and make it happen.
Which was how I ended up looking for and winning my first on-air job in Vermont, leading to work in Connecticut, and finally, New York City. For the last two decades, I like to tell myself, little girls riding in the back of their moms’ SUVs don’t have to ask the question I did.
This isn’t intended as a public service announcement for the Wonder of Me. Not even a little.
It’s just a personal story of how the world changes. And how we change it.
An awful lot of change comes just from asking “Why not?”
Back in the 1700s, Abigail Adams wondered why women weren’t allowed to vote and reminded her husband John to “remember the ladies.” In 1848, a lot more women and the men who supported them got together in Seneca Falls to formally call for the ballot. It took most of a century, but we got there.
During the World Wars, women asked why they couldn’t serve or directly work for victory, and those trailblazers stepped up and did their part. Sure, most of the WACS, WAVES, WASPS, and Rosie the Riveters ended up as 1950s housewives, but they’d opened the door, and even if it was later slammed on their fingers, it was still there.
By the 1970s, Second Wave feminism had most of society asking the question: Why can’t women do…just about anything? That’s how we got the first large numbers of women lawyers, police officers, soldiers – and ordinary middle managers in offices everywhere.
And now, despite the backlash, girlbosses, and the backlash to the backlash – not to mention Covid and everything after – there are almost no professions closed to women. More, there are almost no girls who don’t think of themselves as future workers as well as future homemakers. And very few boys who don’t understand that a father works inside the home as well as outside it.
We can, and should, have the arguments about how we manage work and family life, and who does the caregiving, but we’ve come an awfully long way toward settling the question of what girls – and boys – can do.
And it all starts with a question: Can I?
Thank you for your support of the weekly #ThrowbackThursday blog over the last five years. I’ll be posting intermittently from now on, when interesting and appropriate.
More than a few decades ago, I asked that question as I sat in the back of my mother’s Buick listening to the CBS Radio Network News, as a man with that old-school Voice of G-d delivery declaimed the top-of-hour headlines.
And I decided that if they did, I would.
Years later, standing behind another deep-voiced anchor at KDKA Radio, listening to him read my words less well than I would have, I remembered those days in the Buick, and realized it was time to get out there and make it happen.
Which was how I ended up looking for and winning my first on-air job in Vermont, leading to work in Connecticut, and finally, New York City. For the last two decades, I like to tell myself, little girls riding in the back of their moms’ SUVs don’t have to ask the question I did.
This isn’t intended as a public service announcement for the Wonder of Me. Not even a little.
It’s just a personal story of how the world changes. And how we change it.
An awful lot of change comes just from asking “Why not?”
Back in the 1700s, Abigail Adams wondered why women weren’t allowed to vote and reminded her husband John to “remember the ladies.” In 1848, a lot more women and the men who supported them got together in Seneca Falls to formally call for the ballot. It took most of a century, but we got there.
During the World Wars, women asked why they couldn’t serve or directly work for victory, and those trailblazers stepped up and did their part. Sure, most of the WACS, WAVES, WASPS, and Rosie the Riveters ended up as 1950s housewives, but they’d opened the door, and even if it was later slammed on their fingers, it was still there.
By the 1970s, Second Wave feminism had most of society asking the question: Why can’t women do…just about anything? That’s how we got the first large numbers of women lawyers, police officers, soldiers – and ordinary middle managers in offices everywhere.
And now, despite the backlash, girlbosses, and the backlash to the backlash – not to mention Covid and everything after – there are almost no professions closed to women. More, there are almost no girls who don’t think of themselves as future workers as well as future homemakers. And very few boys who don’t understand that a father works inside the home as well as outside it.
We can, and should, have the arguments about how we manage work and family life, and who does the caregiving, but we’ve come an awfully long way toward settling the question of what girls – and boys – can do.
And it all starts with a question: Can I?
Thank you for your support of the weekly #ThrowbackThursday blog over the last five years. I’ll be posting intermittently from now on, when interesting and appropriate.
June 25, 2025
PRIDE AND JOY
If you’re wondering why we need Pride Month, let me take you back to the time before
we had it. Not centuries ago. Not even half a century.
When I was a teenager, growing up in rural Western Pennsylvania, we didn’t have out and proud. We didn’t even have out.
That doesn’t mean we didn’t have LGBTQ+ people, or even a few safe spaces for people to be their true selves. But in the larger community, there was little or no visibility, and nearly no acceptance.
We’re not talking beatings in the street here, though it did sometimes happen, but social death. In small towns, anyone who doesn’t fit in is ostracized. Very politely, because this was Western PA, but absolutely frozen out.
People were abjectly, and rightly, terrified of being outed. I’ll never forget the look on a theatre friend’s face when I ran into him at the Fourth of July parade with his (female) fiancée. We’d been in a few shows together the summer before, and he’d been comfortably out in the small community college group. A year later, though, he was clearly trying to comply with the expectations of the time and the area, and running into me reminded him of everything he had to hide. We mumbled polite greetings and got out of the conversation as quickly as possible.
I never saw him again. I don’t know what happened to him. Don’t know if he ever got to live his truth. I hope for his – and her – sakes he did.
That’s just a tiny little sketch of the way the world was then.
It wasn’t okay to be LGBTQ+, and the community at large made sure people knew it, from the casual use of the word “gay” as a pejorative to the guy who calmly observed at a church meeting that he’d rather have a dead son than a gay one.
Made me sad then. Now, as the mother of a boy I will love fiercely no matter who or how he is, it makes me sick.
It’s taken decades of battles large and small to change those attitudes.
And unfortunately, the attitudes are still out there, with people trying to coat their bigotry in new spin – or, even more depressingly, making the same tired arguments we thought were debunked two decades ago. The battle is far from over.
Still, it’s important to celebrate the victories – and celebrate Pride.
And so, I’m going to close with one more Throwback Thursday memory: June 2015, a New York City Pride Parade just days after the Supreme Court ruled same-sex marriage was the law of the land. My office is near the parade route, and my shift ended just before the parade began, so I got to absorb the scene.
The streets of Greenwich Village were full of joyful people and rainbow flags. Floats celebrating LGBTQ+ families. Samba drag queens in green glitter dancing with NYPD officers. All kinds of couples walking down the street hand-in-hand, undramatically happy. Same-sex parents pushing strollers decorated with rainbow flags. And everywhere, in every font and color you can imagine, one simple phrase: “LOVE IS LOVE.”
Maybe if we all work hard enough we can get there again.
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
we had it. Not centuries ago. Not even half a century.
When I was a teenager, growing up in rural Western Pennsylvania, we didn’t have out and proud. We didn’t even have out.
That doesn’t mean we didn’t have LGBTQ+ people, or even a few safe spaces for people to be their true selves. But in the larger community, there was little or no visibility, and nearly no acceptance.
We’re not talking beatings in the street here, though it did sometimes happen, but social death. In small towns, anyone who doesn’t fit in is ostracized. Very politely, because this was Western PA, but absolutely frozen out.
People were abjectly, and rightly, terrified of being outed. I’ll never forget the look on a theatre friend’s face when I ran into him at the Fourth of July parade with his (female) fiancée. We’d been in a few shows together the summer before, and he’d been comfortably out in the small community college group. A year later, though, he was clearly trying to comply with the expectations of the time and the area, and running into me reminded him of everything he had to hide. We mumbled polite greetings and got out of the conversation as quickly as possible.
I never saw him again. I don’t know what happened to him. Don’t know if he ever got to live his truth. I hope for his – and her – sakes he did.
That’s just a tiny little sketch of the way the world was then.
It wasn’t okay to be LGBTQ+, and the community at large made sure people knew it, from the casual use of the word “gay” as a pejorative to the guy who calmly observed at a church meeting that he’d rather have a dead son than a gay one.
Made me sad then. Now, as the mother of a boy I will love fiercely no matter who or how he is, it makes me sick.
It’s taken decades of battles large and small to change those attitudes.
And unfortunately, the attitudes are still out there, with people trying to coat their bigotry in new spin – or, even more depressingly, making the same tired arguments we thought were debunked two decades ago. The battle is far from over.
Still, it’s important to celebrate the victories – and celebrate Pride.
And so, I’m going to close with one more Throwback Thursday memory: June 2015, a New York City Pride Parade just days after the Supreme Court ruled same-sex marriage was the law of the land. My office is near the parade route, and my shift ended just before the parade began, so I got to absorb the scene.
The streets of Greenwich Village were full of joyful people and rainbow flags. Floats celebrating LGBTQ+ families. Samba drag queens in green glitter dancing with NYPD officers. All kinds of couples walking down the street hand-in-hand, undramatically happy. Same-sex parents pushing strollers decorated with rainbow flags. And everywhere, in every font and color you can imagine, one simple phrase: “LOVE IS LOVE.”
Maybe if we all work hard enough we can get there again.
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
June 18, 2025
NEVER MIND BLOOMERS, WEAR THE PANTS!
Ella Shane wears the pants – and in 1899, that’s a lot more than an expression. She’s one of the very rare women who’s ever seen in anything but a floor-length skirt away from the beach or bicycle. For the time, that is a Very Big Deal.
There are still plenty of women alive now who can remember when they weren’t allowed to go into spiffy restaurants in a trouser suit. Even I remember someone telling my mother never to dress me in pants again for services at the (admittedly very conservative) church we briefly attended when I was a kid. Let’s just say her response was unholy.
It’s pretty simple: for centuries, pants were what men wore. Of course, there’s a lot of symbolism and cultural weight associated with that, going all the way back to the Bible, where there are verses inveighing against women wearing men’s attire and vice versa. Though, really, in the ancient world, often the only real difference between a man’s garment and a woman’s was color, or possibly length.
Pointing right to the other big issue with pants: practicality. In trousers, men can move and run and do all kinds of things that are much tougher in a skirt. Especially a very long one with layers of petticoats. As long as women have been working, they’ve been working around their clothes, usually tucking the skirts up so they can move easily.
The first time women made a serious effort at wearing pants, in 1851, what quickly became known as the Bloomer Costume was pretty much laughed out of the room, even though the very impressive Elizabeth Cady Stanton was an early adopter. And, honestly, whether by 1850s or 2020s standards, the costume, a long tunic over big puffy pants, does look pretty silly. But it was a try.
What women DID quickly realize was that while they didn’t want to make people giggle while they walked down the street, they sure did enjoy having a little freedom to move. So, by the late 1800s, bloomers and split skirts were a key part of female “sports costumes,” and many women wore them. These were still loose and modest, and often accompanied by thick stockings, even at the beach, so that no one would see too much of one’s “limbs” as seriously Victorian Victorians might say instead of the vulgar “legs.”
Legs, at least the female variety, were not something the Victorians got to see very often. Even ballerinas wore longish tutus, not the little fluffy thigh-length ones we often see now. The only women who showed a lot of leg were chorus girls, and that’s one of the big reasons people made assumptions about them.
So all of that’s in the room when Ella Shane takes the stage in breeches or doublet and (gasp!) hose. She’s not just appropriating the masculine prerogatives of wearing pants, running around and sword fighting; she’s also displaying her very fit body in a way that almost no other respectable woman of the time would be comfortable doing.
Which is why Ella is so aggressively respectable. Occasionally readers find that odd, wondering why someone as unpretentious and kind as Ella is so very hung up on appropriate behavior. She has to be. Every day of her life is a fight to be seen as a lady and not a chorus girl, simply because of the nature of her work. And all because she wears the pants.
Got an idea for a #ThrowbackThursday post? Drop it in the comments!
There are still plenty of women alive now who can remember when they weren’t allowed to go into spiffy restaurants in a trouser suit. Even I remember someone telling my mother never to dress me in pants again for services at the (admittedly very conservative) church we briefly attended when I was a kid. Let’s just say her response was unholy.
It’s pretty simple: for centuries, pants were what men wore. Of course, there’s a lot of symbolism and cultural weight associated with that, going all the way back to the Bible, where there are verses inveighing against women wearing men’s attire and vice versa. Though, really, in the ancient world, often the only real difference between a man’s garment and a woman’s was color, or possibly length.
Pointing right to the other big issue with pants: practicality. In trousers, men can move and run and do all kinds of things that are much tougher in a skirt. Especially a very long one with layers of petticoats. As long as women have been working, they’ve been working around their clothes, usually tucking the skirts up so they can move easily.
The first time women made a serious effort at wearing pants, in 1851, what quickly became known as the Bloomer Costume was pretty much laughed out of the room, even though the very impressive Elizabeth Cady Stanton was an early adopter. And, honestly, whether by 1850s or 2020s standards, the costume, a long tunic over big puffy pants, does look pretty silly. But it was a try.
What women DID quickly realize was that while they didn’t want to make people giggle while they walked down the street, they sure did enjoy having a little freedom to move. So, by the late 1800s, bloomers and split skirts were a key part of female “sports costumes,” and many women wore them. These were still loose and modest, and often accompanied by thick stockings, even at the beach, so that no one would see too much of one’s “limbs” as seriously Victorian Victorians might say instead of the vulgar “legs.”
Legs, at least the female variety, were not something the Victorians got to see very often. Even ballerinas wore longish tutus, not the little fluffy thigh-length ones we often see now. The only women who showed a lot of leg were chorus girls, and that’s one of the big reasons people made assumptions about them.
So all of that’s in the room when Ella Shane takes the stage in breeches or doublet and (gasp!) hose. She’s not just appropriating the masculine prerogatives of wearing pants, running around and sword fighting; she’s also displaying her very fit body in a way that almost no other respectable woman of the time would be comfortable doing.
Which is why Ella is so aggressively respectable. Occasionally readers find that odd, wondering why someone as unpretentious and kind as Ella is so very hung up on appropriate behavior. She has to be. Every day of her life is a fight to be seen as a lady and not a chorus girl, simply because of the nature of her work. And all because she wears the pants.
Got an idea for a #ThrowbackThursday post? Drop it in the comments!
NEVER MIND BLOOMERS, WEAR THE PANTS!
Ella Shane wears the pants – and in 1899, that’s a lot more than an expression. She’s one of the very rare women who’s ever seen in anything but a floor-length skirt away from the beach or bicycle. For the time, that is a Very Big Deal.
There are still plenty of women alive now who can remember when they weren’t allowed to go into spiffy restaurants in a trouser suit. Even I remember someone telling my mother never to dress me in pants again for services at the (admittedly very conservative) church we briefly attended when I was a kid. Let’s just say her response was unholy.
It’s pretty simple: for centuries, pants were what men wore. Of course, there’s a lot of symbolism and cultural weight associated with that, going all the way back to the Bible, where there are verses inveighing against women wearing men’s attire and vice versa. Though, really, in the ancient world, often the only real difference between a man’s garment and a woman’s was color, or possibly length.
Pointing right to the other big issue with pants: practicality. In trousers, men can move and run and do all kinds of things that are much tougher in a skirt. Especially a very long one with layers of petticoats. As long as women have been working, they’ve been working around their clothes, usually tucking the skirts up so they can move easily.
The first time women made a serious effort at wearing pants, in 1851, what quickly became known as the Bloomer Costume was pretty much laughed out of the room, even though the very impressive Elizabeth Cady Stanton was an early adopter. And, honestly, whether by 1850s or 2020s standards, the costume, a long tunic over big puffy pants, does look pretty silly. But it was a try.
What women DID quickly realize was that while they didn’t want to make people giggle while they walked down the street, they sure did enjoy having a little freedom to move. So, by the late 1800s, bloomers and split skirts were a key part of female “sports costumes,” and many women wore them. These were still loose and modest, and often accompanied by thick stockings, even at the beach, so that no one would see too much of one’s “limbs” as seriously Victorian Victorians might say instead of the vulgar “legs.”
Legs, at least the female variety, were not something the Victorians got to see very often. Even ballerinas wore longish tutus, not the little fluffy thigh-length ones we often see now. The only women who showed a lot of leg were chorus girls, and that’s one of the big reasons people made assumptions about them.
So all of that’s in the room when Ella Shane takes the stage in breeches or doublet and (gasp!) hose. She’s not just appropriating the masculine prerogatives of wearing pants, running around and sword fighting; she’s also displaying her very fit body in a way that almost no other respectable woman of the time would be comfortable doing.
Which is why Ella is so aggressively respectable. Occasionally readers find that odd, wondering why someone as unpretentious and kind as Ella is so very hung up on appropriate behavior. She has to be. Every day of her life is a fight to be seen as a lady and not a chorus girl, simply because of the nature of her work. And all because she wears the pants.
Got an idea for a #ThrowbackThursday post? Drop it in the comments!
There are still plenty of women alive now who can remember when they weren’t allowed to go into spiffy restaurants in a trouser suit. Even I remember someone telling my mother never to dress me in pants again for services at the (admittedly very conservative) church we briefly attended when I was a kid. Let’s just say her response was unholy.
It’s pretty simple: for centuries, pants were what men wore. Of course, there’s a lot of symbolism and cultural weight associated with that, going all the way back to the Bible, where there are verses inveighing against women wearing men’s attire and vice versa. Though, really, in the ancient world, often the only real difference between a man’s garment and a woman’s was color, or possibly length.
Pointing right to the other big issue with pants: practicality. In trousers, men can move and run and do all kinds of things that are much tougher in a skirt. Especially a very long one with layers of petticoats. As long as women have been working, they’ve been working around their clothes, usually tucking the skirts up so they can move easily.
The first time women made a serious effort at wearing pants, in 1851, what quickly became known as the Bloomer Costume was pretty much laughed out of the room, even though the very impressive Elizabeth Cady Stanton was an early adopter. And, honestly, whether by 1850s or 2020s standards, the costume, a long tunic over big puffy pants, does look pretty silly. But it was a try.
What women DID quickly realize was that while they didn’t want to make people giggle while they walked down the street, they sure did enjoy having a little freedom to move. So, by the late 1800s, bloomers and split skirts were a key part of female “sports costumes,” and many women wore them. These were still loose and modest, and often accompanied by thick stockings, even at the beach, so that no one would see too much of one’s “limbs” as seriously Victorian Victorians might say instead of the vulgar “legs.”
Legs, at least the female variety, were not something the Victorians got to see very often. Even ballerinas wore longish tutus, not the little fluffy thigh-length ones we often see now. The only women who showed a lot of leg were chorus girls, and that’s one of the big reasons people made assumptions about them.
So all of that’s in the room when Ella Shane takes the stage in breeches or doublet and (gasp!) hose. She’s not just appropriating the masculine prerogatives of wearing pants, running around and sword fighting; she’s also displaying her very fit body in a way that almost no other respectable woman of the time would be comfortable doing.
Which is why Ella is so aggressively respectable. Occasionally readers find that odd, wondering why someone as unpretentious and kind as Ella is so very hung up on appropriate behavior. She has to be. Every day of her life is a fight to be seen as a lady and not a chorus girl, simply because of the nature of her work. And all because she wears the pants.
Got an idea for a #ThrowbackThursday post? Drop it in the comments!
June 11, 2025
WITCHES, B*TCHES, AND BRITCHES, OH MY!
Mezzo-sopranos have a very wry way of describing most of the roles available to them in classic opera: “Witches, b*tches, and britches.”
It’s a darkly funny response to a not very funny reality. A mezzo-soprano, though her voice is every bit as much the product of gift and training as a woman with a higher range, can easily find herself shifted off to supporting roles.
When most of us think of opera, we think of the high notes of a coloratura soprano, and the iconic roles that go with it. Violetta in La Traviata, Lucia di Lammermoor, the Queen of the Night from Mozart’s Magic Flute. All showy parts for the highest voices. And not for a woman with a middle range and a darker vocal quality.
There are some lead roles written specifically for mezzos, like Carmen, but most of the big, popularly-performed pieces feature a soprano as the lead. Even if the role is written for a mezzo, like La Cerentola, (Rossini’s Cinderella), it may be within a particular soprano’s range…so they can swoop in and take that, too.
Composers often use the darker, deeper quality of a mezzo voice for wise or evil characters – the witches and b*tches – as a contrast to the bright high notes of the pretty princess. Or they just give the soprano a mezzo best friend with one decent aria.
Which brings us to the britches.
A little background first. In the early days of opera, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, there were a fair number of castrati, men who had been, as Ella Shane puts it, “un-manned” to keep their voices high. Amazingly enough, that was not a popular career choice, and it died out with the eighteenth century. Before it did, though, some heroic male roles were written in that range.
Once there were no longer high-voiced men around to sing them, somebody figured out that mezzos could, and might look awfully good doing it, too. So women singers started taking those roles, and some became a sensation, both for their talent, and the simple fact that the opera house was truly the only respectable place in the 19th century that you might see a woman in trousers.
(It’s a whole different #ThrowbackThursday, but Victorian men got amazingly excited at the smallest sight of a female body, and a woman in pants would have been a major fantasy object for the fellas.)
And so, it’s really no wonder that someone like an Ella Shane, blessed with an amazing coloratura mezzo voice, genuine star quality, and a scrappy attitude, would gravitate to trouser roles. Neither she nor her mentor Madame Lentini would have been especially interested in training her for a career as the witch or the best friend; Ella didn’t claw her way out of the tenements for that.
Besides, Ella likes trouser roles. The fencing and swashbuckling and singing are all fun for her. For her author, too, honestly. What’s better than having a heroine who can play both sides of the street, doing her own fighting and swordplay instead of standing there wringing her hands while the boys take the action?
Ella’s latest, A FATAL WALTZ, finds her doing a real-life male masquerade to help a friend, with some unexpected consequences. You’ll have to read the book to find out what happens
Got a #Throwback Thursday idea? Drop it in the comments.
It’s a darkly funny response to a not very funny reality. A mezzo-soprano, though her voice is every bit as much the product of gift and training as a woman with a higher range, can easily find herself shifted off to supporting roles.
When most of us think of opera, we think of the high notes of a coloratura soprano, and the iconic roles that go with it. Violetta in La Traviata, Lucia di Lammermoor, the Queen of the Night from Mozart’s Magic Flute. All showy parts for the highest voices. And not for a woman with a middle range and a darker vocal quality.
There are some lead roles written specifically for mezzos, like Carmen, but most of the big, popularly-performed pieces feature a soprano as the lead. Even if the role is written for a mezzo, like La Cerentola, (Rossini’s Cinderella), it may be within a particular soprano’s range…so they can swoop in and take that, too.
Composers often use the darker, deeper quality of a mezzo voice for wise or evil characters – the witches and b*tches – as a contrast to the bright high notes of the pretty princess. Or they just give the soprano a mezzo best friend with one decent aria.
Which brings us to the britches.
A little background first. In the early days of opera, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, there were a fair number of castrati, men who had been, as Ella Shane puts it, “un-manned” to keep their voices high. Amazingly enough, that was not a popular career choice, and it died out with the eighteenth century. Before it did, though, some heroic male roles were written in that range.
Once there were no longer high-voiced men around to sing them, somebody figured out that mezzos could, and might look awfully good doing it, too. So women singers started taking those roles, and some became a sensation, both for their talent, and the simple fact that the opera house was truly the only respectable place in the 19th century that you might see a woman in trousers.
(It’s a whole different #ThrowbackThursday, but Victorian men got amazingly excited at the smallest sight of a female body, and a woman in pants would have been a major fantasy object for the fellas.)
And so, it’s really no wonder that someone like an Ella Shane, blessed with an amazing coloratura mezzo voice, genuine star quality, and a scrappy attitude, would gravitate to trouser roles. Neither she nor her mentor Madame Lentini would have been especially interested in training her for a career as the witch or the best friend; Ella didn’t claw her way out of the tenements for that.
Besides, Ella likes trouser roles. The fencing and swashbuckling and singing are all fun for her. For her author, too, honestly. What’s better than having a heroine who can play both sides of the street, doing her own fighting and swordplay instead of standing there wringing her hands while the boys take the action?
Ella’s latest, A FATAL WALTZ, finds her doing a real-life male masquerade to help a friend, with some unexpected consequences. You’ll have to read the book to find out what happens
Got a #Throwback Thursday idea? Drop it in the comments.
June 4, 2025
CHARMED LIVES
Every few years, some jewelry company succeeds in convincing the style experts that charm bracelets are “back,” and the cycle of ads and articles begins as if they’d gone somewhere. The truth is, charm bracelets never really go away, and some people are always wearing and enjoying them because they’re such a wonderful way to keep and cherish memories.
Remnants of charm bracelets have been found in prehistoric sites, and the ancient Assyrians and others wore strings of various amulets. Back then, it was a charm in the magical sense: a thing intended to protect you from some kind of harm.
While the magical meaning faded with time, the idea of wearing something in an easily visible place to carry an important memory or message is a very popular one, so the idea never really faded away, even if it took different forms, depending on fashion.
Modern charm bracelet fans can thank – guess who? – Queen Victoria, for making them really popular. Pictures of the Grandmother of Europe from various stages of her life clearly show several of them, some that were mementoes from her beloved Albert, and others of her constantly growing family. Of course, if it was good enough for her, it was good enough for everyone else…and ladies quickly adopted the fashion.
At the time, it was very much an upper-class vogue. Most people would not have had the money for innumerable little trinkets – and a working woman would never have been comfortable wearing all of those jingling bits on her wrist while she scrubbed or typed, never mind what would have happened in a factory. So simply owning a charm bracelet marked you as woman of a particular class.
That’s probably one of the reasons Ella Shane prizes hers. While she definitely does not like fancy jewels, finding them wasteful and at least somewhat less than respectable, she definitely does love the collection of mementoes around her wrist. It’s a very proper way for her to announce that she is now a lady of means and substance, and she’s quite proud of it.
Like any woman who collects charms, she also loves what they represent. Many of hers are pieces that recall roles she’s played over the years, tracking her successful career. But not all. When we meet Ella, she also has pieces from friends and family marking special milestones, like her friend Marie’s wedding, and gifts from friends over the years.
Charms were, and are, a thoughtful and meaningful gift to a woman who collects them. They were also one of the very few gifts a man could give a woman that was considered respectable. Though charms are undoubtedly jewelry items, because of their tiny size, relatively low value, and the fact that they are also respectable gifts among family and friends, a gentleman could give one to a lady in perfect propriety.
That’s why the Duke gives Ella one at the end of their first adventure, A FATAL FINALE. The crossed swords engraved on it are a reminder of their meeting, and the charm itself a callback to a moment when he clasped the bracelet on her wrist, his fingers touching her skin for the first time. A charm is also his acknowledgement that she’s a lady whom one gives a small trinket, rather than a courtesan to be bought with jewels.
More than a year later, a charm closes the circle in their wedding adventure, A FATAL RECEPTION. Gil (as we now know him) sends his bride a gift on the day they marry: a charm engraved with the word “bashert,” Hebrew for “fated,” meaning a couple who are meant for each other.
A charm bracelet is a woman’s biography in jewelry. No wonder they never really go out of style!
Have a Throwback Thursday idea? Leave it in the comments!
Remnants of charm bracelets have been found in prehistoric sites, and the ancient Assyrians and others wore strings of various amulets. Back then, it was a charm in the magical sense: a thing intended to protect you from some kind of harm.
While the magical meaning faded with time, the idea of wearing something in an easily visible place to carry an important memory or message is a very popular one, so the idea never really faded away, even if it took different forms, depending on fashion.
Modern charm bracelet fans can thank – guess who? – Queen Victoria, for making them really popular. Pictures of the Grandmother of Europe from various stages of her life clearly show several of them, some that were mementoes from her beloved Albert, and others of her constantly growing family. Of course, if it was good enough for her, it was good enough for everyone else…and ladies quickly adopted the fashion.
At the time, it was very much an upper-class vogue. Most people would not have had the money for innumerable little trinkets – and a working woman would never have been comfortable wearing all of those jingling bits on her wrist while she scrubbed or typed, never mind what would have happened in a factory. So simply owning a charm bracelet marked you as woman of a particular class.
That’s probably one of the reasons Ella Shane prizes hers. While she definitely does not like fancy jewels, finding them wasteful and at least somewhat less than respectable, she definitely does love the collection of mementoes around her wrist. It’s a very proper way for her to announce that she is now a lady of means and substance, and she’s quite proud of it.
Like any woman who collects charms, she also loves what they represent. Many of hers are pieces that recall roles she’s played over the years, tracking her successful career. But not all. When we meet Ella, she also has pieces from friends and family marking special milestones, like her friend Marie’s wedding, and gifts from friends over the years.
Charms were, and are, a thoughtful and meaningful gift to a woman who collects them. They were also one of the very few gifts a man could give a woman that was considered respectable. Though charms are undoubtedly jewelry items, because of their tiny size, relatively low value, and the fact that they are also respectable gifts among family and friends, a gentleman could give one to a lady in perfect propriety.
That’s why the Duke gives Ella one at the end of their first adventure, A FATAL FINALE. The crossed swords engraved on it are a reminder of their meeting, and the charm itself a callback to a moment when he clasped the bracelet on her wrist, his fingers touching her skin for the first time. A charm is also his acknowledgement that she’s a lady whom one gives a small trinket, rather than a courtesan to be bought with jewels.
More than a year later, a charm closes the circle in their wedding adventure, A FATAL RECEPTION. Gil (as we now know him) sends his bride a gift on the day they marry: a charm engraved with the word “bashert,” Hebrew for “fated,” meaning a couple who are meant for each other.
A charm bracelet is a woman’s biography in jewelry. No wonder they never really go out of style!
Have a Throwback Thursday idea? Leave it in the comments!
May 28, 2025
BRUNNHILDE AND TONY
What’s your mental picture of an opera singer? Probably not Ella Shane, a sleek, appealing woman in her 30s dressed in a doublet and hose, with a sword at her belt, playing a very credible Romeo or King Edward V. Well, Ella’s the one you’ll meet in my books…and she’s also a much more accurate reflection of a Gilded Age diva than the zaftig lady with a metal bra and horned helmet that many people envision when they hear “opera singer.”
Despite the best efforts of the Met and other companies to widen the audience, for an awful lot of folks, opera is still a fancy, elite form. Part of that is the simple fact that many iconic pieces are in foreign languages. You can thank my beloved Beverly Sills for popularizing supertitles, which provide live translation. But even with that, you’re still asking folks to go watch people sing their little hearts out in a language they don’t speak for three hours. It can be a stretch.
Not in 1899. While opera wasn’t as wildly popular as it had been in the earlier Jenny Lind era, it was still something ordinary people followed, enjoyed and attended. The gossip columnists don’t just watch Ella because they like her hats; divas were stars of today’s movie or TV magnitude.
And before film or airwaves, those stars brought the show to the audience. The Ella Shane Opera Company tours regularly, on a circuit including large cities like Boston and Philadelphia, and occasionally taking the long trip to San Francisco. They’re part of a huge and vibrant industry of traveling companies and theatre circuits, from small to large, across the country.
It’s hard to imagine now, but most medium-sized towns had theatres, and traveling companies came through with the melodrama of the day. Opera companies traveled too, and played to sizeable audiences, not just in large cities. While opera singers were indeed perceived as practicing a difficult and elevated art, they were offering those performances to the same wide audiences as lighter fare.
Live performance is an event to us, even – maybe especially -- in 2025. To people who never saw any other kind of performance, it must have been awe-inspiring, truly magical. Stagecraft and special effects weren’t at 21st century level, but they were very good, and no traveling production was complete without at least one good spectacle. People expected a good show for their time and money – and successful companies made sure they got it.
It’s worth noting here that audiences would also be a lot more familiar with the material and background of the productions. Remember, most operas began as popular entertainment, and became iconic over time. Plus, people read a lot more Shakespeare and classical history – and what we think of as nineteenth-century literature was the book on somebody’s nightstand. So they don’t look at Romeo and Juliet, or Richard III the same way we do.
All of this to say, whether Ella’s on the road, bringing out a new opera at home in New York, or debuting at the Met as she does in A Fatal Waltz, she’s a star, and a popular draw.
My advice: don’t think of Ella as Renee Fleming, no disrespect intended. Think of her as James Gandolfini: a brilliantly talented performer known for a popular and iconic role, and a pretty terrific New Yorker. You’ll be much closer to the truth…even if Ella would disapprove of Mr. Soprano’s vocabulary!
Got an idea for a #ThrowbackThursday post? Drop it in the comments!
Despite the best efforts of the Met and other companies to widen the audience, for an awful lot of folks, opera is still a fancy, elite form. Part of that is the simple fact that many iconic pieces are in foreign languages. You can thank my beloved Beverly Sills for popularizing supertitles, which provide live translation. But even with that, you’re still asking folks to go watch people sing their little hearts out in a language they don’t speak for three hours. It can be a stretch.
Not in 1899. While opera wasn’t as wildly popular as it had been in the earlier Jenny Lind era, it was still something ordinary people followed, enjoyed and attended. The gossip columnists don’t just watch Ella because they like her hats; divas were stars of today’s movie or TV magnitude.
And before film or airwaves, those stars brought the show to the audience. The Ella Shane Opera Company tours regularly, on a circuit including large cities like Boston and Philadelphia, and occasionally taking the long trip to San Francisco. They’re part of a huge and vibrant industry of traveling companies and theatre circuits, from small to large, across the country.
It’s hard to imagine now, but most medium-sized towns had theatres, and traveling companies came through with the melodrama of the day. Opera companies traveled too, and played to sizeable audiences, not just in large cities. While opera singers were indeed perceived as practicing a difficult and elevated art, they were offering those performances to the same wide audiences as lighter fare.
Live performance is an event to us, even – maybe especially -- in 2025. To people who never saw any other kind of performance, it must have been awe-inspiring, truly magical. Stagecraft and special effects weren’t at 21st century level, but they were very good, and no traveling production was complete without at least one good spectacle. People expected a good show for their time and money – and successful companies made sure they got it.
It’s worth noting here that audiences would also be a lot more familiar with the material and background of the productions. Remember, most operas began as popular entertainment, and became iconic over time. Plus, people read a lot more Shakespeare and classical history – and what we think of as nineteenth-century literature was the book on somebody’s nightstand. So they don’t look at Romeo and Juliet, or Richard III the same way we do.
All of this to say, whether Ella’s on the road, bringing out a new opera at home in New York, or debuting at the Met as she does in A Fatal Waltz, she’s a star, and a popular draw.
My advice: don’t think of Ella as Renee Fleming, no disrespect intended. Think of her as James Gandolfini: a brilliantly talented performer known for a popular and iconic role, and a pretty terrific New Yorker. You’ll be much closer to the truth…even if Ella would disapprove of Mr. Soprano’s vocabulary!
Got an idea for a #ThrowbackThursday post? Drop it in the comments!
May 21, 2025
SLIP INTO A TEA GOWN
Why does Ella always seem to end up in a tea-gown?
It’s a reasonable question, considering we see her in one at some point in most of the books. Always in her favorite purple shades: lacy and lilac, violet crepe de chine with ribbon trim, lavender wool with embroidery on a cold day. In A FATAL FIRST NIGHT, her singing partner Marie even turns up in one too, in her favorite color, sky blue.
Reporter Hetty is in a suit in that scene, and Ella feels sorry for her.
So what’s so great about a tea-gown?
It’s simple: a tea-gown enabled a woman to be decently dressed without wearing a corset. Even our very modern ladies, and singers like Ella and Marie, would never dream of leaving the house without wearing stays.
Corsets have been compared to armor, and with good reason. I wore one for a musical production once, and I had a hard time getting my breath to walk across the stage, never mind sing, not that I’m much of a singer, anyhow. When you’re wearing one, even if it’s not laced especially tightly, there is no moment, or way you can move, that you aren’t aware of it.
More, they’re especially uncomfortable when you sit down. The late-19th century models weren’t as long-lined as the ones that came a bit later, so they probably were a little less horrible to sit in, but not by much.
So it makes sense that women wanted a reasonably respectable garment to wear around the house that didn’t require the uncomfortable underpinnings. Enter the tea-gown. Always loose in the waist, often not fitted anywhere but the shoulders and possibly sleeves, it could be anything from simple to fanciful, but it always gave women much-needed room to breathe in private.
Tea-gowns, it’s important to note here, were for women of at least some means. They were most popular among the upper crust, where a lady would change out of her day dress into a tea-gown for a relaxing afternoon on her chaise longue before donning a glittering evening creation for whatever the night might bring. But they were also popular house wear among “respectable” women, who immediately saw the appeal of a comfortable, yet attractive, house outfit.
Our respectable ladies would not be interested in this, but some of those society matrons discovered other uses for the tea-gown and the afternoon break. By their heyday in the Edwardian Era, tea-gowns were associated with illicit assignations. The idea, we’re told, is that the tea-gown made such activities far more pleasant than a conventional corseted costume.
So the tea-gown also has a little flair of the naughty about it. Ella and Marie are not unaware of this, but they’re also not about to pass up a chance to relax in a pretty dress. Marie, in case you’re wondering, wears that sky-blue gown because it’s late at night at a friend’s house. It’s not really proper, but since it’s “in the family,” it’s not really improper, either.
Tea-gowns, by the way, were still with us well into the 1970s, under a less elevated name, and in far less elegant form. Those little cotton housedresses that Edith Bunker and other sitcom housewives wore were nothing but a scruffy descendant of the tea-gown.
I’ll take the crepe de chine any day.
Got a Throwback Thursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
It’s a reasonable question, considering we see her in one at some point in most of the books. Always in her favorite purple shades: lacy and lilac, violet crepe de chine with ribbon trim, lavender wool with embroidery on a cold day. In A FATAL FIRST NIGHT, her singing partner Marie even turns up in one too, in her favorite color, sky blue.
Reporter Hetty is in a suit in that scene, and Ella feels sorry for her.
So what’s so great about a tea-gown?
It’s simple: a tea-gown enabled a woman to be decently dressed without wearing a corset. Even our very modern ladies, and singers like Ella and Marie, would never dream of leaving the house without wearing stays.
Corsets have been compared to armor, and with good reason. I wore one for a musical production once, and I had a hard time getting my breath to walk across the stage, never mind sing, not that I’m much of a singer, anyhow. When you’re wearing one, even if it’s not laced especially tightly, there is no moment, or way you can move, that you aren’t aware of it.
More, they’re especially uncomfortable when you sit down. The late-19th century models weren’t as long-lined as the ones that came a bit later, so they probably were a little less horrible to sit in, but not by much.
So it makes sense that women wanted a reasonably respectable garment to wear around the house that didn’t require the uncomfortable underpinnings. Enter the tea-gown. Always loose in the waist, often not fitted anywhere but the shoulders and possibly sleeves, it could be anything from simple to fanciful, but it always gave women much-needed room to breathe in private.
Tea-gowns, it’s important to note here, were for women of at least some means. They were most popular among the upper crust, where a lady would change out of her day dress into a tea-gown for a relaxing afternoon on her chaise longue before donning a glittering evening creation for whatever the night might bring. But they were also popular house wear among “respectable” women, who immediately saw the appeal of a comfortable, yet attractive, house outfit.
Our respectable ladies would not be interested in this, but some of those society matrons discovered other uses for the tea-gown and the afternoon break. By their heyday in the Edwardian Era, tea-gowns were associated with illicit assignations. The idea, we’re told, is that the tea-gown made such activities far more pleasant than a conventional corseted costume.
So the tea-gown also has a little flair of the naughty about it. Ella and Marie are not unaware of this, but they’re also not about to pass up a chance to relax in a pretty dress. Marie, in case you’re wondering, wears that sky-blue gown because it’s late at night at a friend’s house. It’s not really proper, but since it’s “in the family,” it’s not really improper, either.
Tea-gowns, by the way, were still with us well into the 1970s, under a less elevated name, and in far less elegant form. Those little cotton housedresses that Edith Bunker and other sitcom housewives wore were nothing but a scruffy descendant of the tea-gown.
I’ll take the crepe de chine any day.
Got a Throwback Thursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
May 14, 2025
THEY'RE MARRYING CHORUS GIRLS
When the late Prince Philip reportedly observed that it’s a different world now, and some aristocrats are marrying chorus girls, some considered that a remarkably snobbish comment. It may have been. It was also the simple acknowledgement of a fact that began in the late 19th century, when a very specific kind of chorus girl began making her way into the aristocracy.
Just as some impoverished aristocrats started marrying American “Dollar Princesses,” when the strict standards for an appropriate match began to loosen, so did other aristocrats start taking a closer look at young ladies on the stage.
Not just any young ladies, though.
It started in the 1890s with the “Gaiety Girls” in Britain, polite, elegant and of course beautiful young performers in musical comedies at (where else?) the Gaiety Theatre. The ladies were the epitome of “pretty is as pretty does,” well-chaperoned and graceful, and the gents lined up to meet them. Many “married well,” as the expression goes, with more than one snaring an Earl.
Soon enough, the idea crossed the pond, and the featured members of Broadway’s famous Floradora Sextette had all the attention they could handle. Once again, they were lovely, well-behaved young ladies, impeccably chaperoned and of course virtuous. Rumor had it that every member of the original sextette married a millionaire, and true or not, the story of the sweet chorus girl who makes a good match was embedded in the culture.
It’s not, after all, a very long leap from that Floradora Girl to the cheerful gold-diggers of the flapper era – or many of the characters Marilyn Monroe played. Marilyn’s outfits are more fun, but the idea of the girl who makes the best deal with what she’s got was a well-established tradition by the time she blazed onto the screen.
While Ella Shane would admire Marilyn Monroe as an underrated artist, she doesn’t have much appreciation for the chorus girls of her time. After all, Ella’s fighting – sometimes literally – to be considered “a lady and an artist,” and those little darlings at the Gaiety or the Floradora show just waltz in and take all the cookies.
Ella expects anyone who wants to be taken seriously as a professional performer to do the work, and she doesn’t have much respect for the light singing and dancing required of the Gaiety girls especially. What she misses – but a modern observer doesn’t – is that the minimal effort is part of the point.
Someone like Ella, a magnificently talented, highly trained artist, would not be nearly as appealing and approachable to a certain kind of man as one of those pretty lightweights. Ella, even without a sword in hand, is a little scary for some men. Not so the Floradora girls, who are pretty and modestly accomplished. They’re a much more comfortable companion for the powerful men of the time, who want a woman who they can show off – but who won’t show them up.
Well, most powerful men of the time. There’s one particular British aristocrat who very much likes being challenged by Ella…and isn’t afraid of her, either. And now, five books later, we know how that turned out!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments.
Just as some impoverished aristocrats started marrying American “Dollar Princesses,” when the strict standards for an appropriate match began to loosen, so did other aristocrats start taking a closer look at young ladies on the stage.
Not just any young ladies, though.
It started in the 1890s with the “Gaiety Girls” in Britain, polite, elegant and of course beautiful young performers in musical comedies at (where else?) the Gaiety Theatre. The ladies were the epitome of “pretty is as pretty does,” well-chaperoned and graceful, and the gents lined up to meet them. Many “married well,” as the expression goes, with more than one snaring an Earl.
Soon enough, the idea crossed the pond, and the featured members of Broadway’s famous Floradora Sextette had all the attention they could handle. Once again, they were lovely, well-behaved young ladies, impeccably chaperoned and of course virtuous. Rumor had it that every member of the original sextette married a millionaire, and true or not, the story of the sweet chorus girl who makes a good match was embedded in the culture.
It’s not, after all, a very long leap from that Floradora Girl to the cheerful gold-diggers of the flapper era – or many of the characters Marilyn Monroe played. Marilyn’s outfits are more fun, but the idea of the girl who makes the best deal with what she’s got was a well-established tradition by the time she blazed onto the screen.
While Ella Shane would admire Marilyn Monroe as an underrated artist, she doesn’t have much appreciation for the chorus girls of her time. After all, Ella’s fighting – sometimes literally – to be considered “a lady and an artist,” and those little darlings at the Gaiety or the Floradora show just waltz in and take all the cookies.
Ella expects anyone who wants to be taken seriously as a professional performer to do the work, and she doesn’t have much respect for the light singing and dancing required of the Gaiety girls especially. What she misses – but a modern observer doesn’t – is that the minimal effort is part of the point.
Someone like Ella, a magnificently talented, highly trained artist, would not be nearly as appealing and approachable to a certain kind of man as one of those pretty lightweights. Ella, even without a sword in hand, is a little scary for some men. Not so the Floradora girls, who are pretty and modestly accomplished. They’re a much more comfortable companion for the powerful men of the time, who want a woman who they can show off – but who won’t show them up.
Well, most powerful men of the time. There’s one particular British aristocrat who very much likes being challenged by Ella…and isn’t afraid of her, either. And now, five books later, we know how that turned out!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments.
May 7, 2025
MOTHERS AND OTHERS
Mothers are tough.
Not just in the literal sense, though most of us are, but for society to consider. Even now, it’s hard to gauge the expectations: love and nurturing, sure, but also fighting like a grizzly in defense of her cubs, preferably while teaching them to send handwritten thank-you notes.
But at least we have some sense of mothers as full human beings.
In earlier times, that was a much heavier lift…and sometimes just plain impossible.
At the most basic biological level, mothering is mysterious and at least a little threatening: female bodies do something males can’t, and they have only our word that they’re involved. It’s more than biology, too. Mothers, by blood, adoption, or affection, are renowned for the sheer force of their love for their children. And the incredible things it drives them to do.
Motherhood is just a lot. For the people who live it, and the people who deal with us.
Historically, it’s also one of the few ways women get real political and economic power. Even the most patriarchal societies were willing to allow a mother to serve as regent for an underage heir, or to manage the affairs of her young children. She had to walk carefully, though.
While stepping up and running the country, or the business, she also had to practically exemplify the highest standards of ladylike behavior…or risk being described as a she-wolf. It didn’t always go well. Just ask Nero’s mom, or Catherine de’Medici.
The Victorians, as they so often did, went absolutely next-level with all of this.
From labor, which went from a traditionally female group activity overseen by a midwife to a medical procedure led by a heroic male doctor, to the worship of the Angel in the House, they stretched existing ideas. Family life became the “woman’s sphere,” ruled over by “Mother, Queen of Home.”
The Queen of Home, of course, had no interest beyond the needs of her children and spouse. Even when the Queen of Home happened to be the Queen of England, the tropes held. During the mid-Victorian period, when the queen’s nine children were young, she stepped back, allowing Prince Albert to lead. It was not, of course, expressed that way. No one suggested Victoria was simply taking a career stall. Instead, they praised Albert for his work, and considerable acumen.
In a sad and ironic turn, Victoria ended up returning to the job after Albert’s death, and ultimately not just getting good at it, but enjoying it. To the end of her life, though, she – and everyone around her – treated her as a mother first.
More than a century later, we’ve come a long way, baby.
Not as long as we think we have, though,
Study after study shows women are still the ones who do most of the line work of childcare. Younger men are getting better – and there have always been men who loved to spend time with their kids – but much of the messy stuff is still handled by females. And the dirty little secret is, many moms (myself included) don’t mind getting grubby for the love we get in return.
It doesn’t prevent us from being a bit cynical, though. I’ll end this Mother’s Day musing with a dry comment from my Vermont DJ Jaye Jordan: “A man changes a diaper and he gets a parade. A woman takes a bullet for her kid, and maybe, just maybe, somebody will notice.”
Please notice the mothers and others Sunday!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea, drop it in the comments!
Not just in the literal sense, though most of us are, but for society to consider. Even now, it’s hard to gauge the expectations: love and nurturing, sure, but also fighting like a grizzly in defense of her cubs, preferably while teaching them to send handwritten thank-you notes.
But at least we have some sense of mothers as full human beings.
In earlier times, that was a much heavier lift…and sometimes just plain impossible.
At the most basic biological level, mothering is mysterious and at least a little threatening: female bodies do something males can’t, and they have only our word that they’re involved. It’s more than biology, too. Mothers, by blood, adoption, or affection, are renowned for the sheer force of their love for their children. And the incredible things it drives them to do.
Motherhood is just a lot. For the people who live it, and the people who deal with us.
Historically, it’s also one of the few ways women get real political and economic power. Even the most patriarchal societies were willing to allow a mother to serve as regent for an underage heir, or to manage the affairs of her young children. She had to walk carefully, though.
While stepping up and running the country, or the business, she also had to practically exemplify the highest standards of ladylike behavior…or risk being described as a she-wolf. It didn’t always go well. Just ask Nero’s mom, or Catherine de’Medici.
The Victorians, as they so often did, went absolutely next-level with all of this.
From labor, which went from a traditionally female group activity overseen by a midwife to a medical procedure led by a heroic male doctor, to the worship of the Angel in the House, they stretched existing ideas. Family life became the “woman’s sphere,” ruled over by “Mother, Queen of Home.”
The Queen of Home, of course, had no interest beyond the needs of her children and spouse. Even when the Queen of Home happened to be the Queen of England, the tropes held. During the mid-Victorian period, when the queen’s nine children were young, she stepped back, allowing Prince Albert to lead. It was not, of course, expressed that way. No one suggested Victoria was simply taking a career stall. Instead, they praised Albert for his work, and considerable acumen.
In a sad and ironic turn, Victoria ended up returning to the job after Albert’s death, and ultimately not just getting good at it, but enjoying it. To the end of her life, though, she – and everyone around her – treated her as a mother first.
More than a century later, we’ve come a long way, baby.
Not as long as we think we have, though,
Study after study shows women are still the ones who do most of the line work of childcare. Younger men are getting better – and there have always been men who loved to spend time with their kids – but much of the messy stuff is still handled by females. And the dirty little secret is, many moms (myself included) don’t mind getting grubby for the love we get in return.
It doesn’t prevent us from being a bit cynical, though. I’ll end this Mother’s Day musing with a dry comment from my Vermont DJ Jaye Jordan: “A man changes a diaper and he gets a parade. A woman takes a bullet for her kid, and maybe, just maybe, somebody will notice.”
Please notice the mothers and others Sunday!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea, drop it in the comments!
