fitting in

Was thinking the other morning about my high school days, and remembering the anguish of trying to fit in. Being in the school play instead of on the sidelines as a cheerleader did not give me the popularity I wanted so desperately. Being in the band gave way to being on the yearbook staff and a feature writer for the newspaper but those were small potatoes compared to strutting majorettes. And no, mother says, I don't care how popular it is to be in the art class, you are taking typing.

Dating? Not even talked about until my 16th birthday, with only one month remaining in my junior year. And then I was constrained by ten pm curfews and a father who conducted a mandatory 15-minute interview while I waited out of sight in the bedroom. If the young gentleman was in the least unacceptable, he was politely shown the shotgun and the door, in that order, and cordially not invited back to our premises.

No wearing shorts on the weekend, too revealing. No spaghetti strap dresses at any time, ditto reason. If everybody else jumped off the bridge of rolled-up-jeans that didn't give me the right to join their ranks.

When everybody else on our street got a gasoline-driven lawn mower, we powered ours with hands and legs alone. When all the other ladies in the neighborhood boasted electric clothes dryers, we just kept on hanging our laundry on the line. You say you're cold? Put on a sweater. Too hot? Here's a paper fan. Did I hear you say you're bored? Read a book. No, we're not getting a color TV, there's nothing wrong with the black and white one we have now. Think your life is horrible? Let me tell you about the Depression.

And do not, do not, repeat do not question those decisions. I wasn't raised in a household where backtalk of any kind was allowed, not even whispered under your breath. Parental edicts left no room for negotiation. None. You want to go somewhere on Sunday night? It better be to church. And ours, not his. No phone calls after 8 pm. Do NOT roll your eyes at me. I could go on but you get the idea.

Chemistry and physics and algebra and trig and geometry were a part of life when I was out there in the workforce, but not today.

It's been probably 40 years since I worried about "fitting in." I hang my clothes on a wooden rack in the back yard. I push a lawn mower that never saw a gallon of fuel. My house stays just warm enough and just cool enough to be comfortable without having to take out a loan to pay the utility bill.

Each day I say a prayer of thanks for parents who cared enough to make me learn how to iron a shirt, how to manage money, how to be a good citizen, how to vote, how to donate blood, how to live within the law, and how to live in a society where the "norm" changes daily but good Christian values never do.

I can't remember when it was that being popular and fitting in stopped being important to me. But I'm thankful it did. And every morning when I sit down at the computer I bless the teacher who taught me to type, and the Mother who insisted I learn.