Dear My Darling Public
The wind in Edinboro today gave a resistance to my step that drastically increased the amount of time that it took me to get from one side of campus to the other. It was certainly on the minds of all of my peers and at the root of their ever frequent and openly casual side conversation. It was so bitingly freezing that the back of my hair, having been exposed to the the warmest shower I had taken all week, had been cooled to the consistency of icicles in the time it took me to get from my place of residence, Earp Hall, to the only building on campus in which I can afford to eat, The Van Houten Dining Hall. The better part of this walk, of course, was spent cutting through whatever building offered even a moment of warm climate to a journey of, what seemed at the time to be, one thousand miles, but my hair still froze to stiffness from the arctic blast.
I thought it was fitting, then, that I also came upon a document, given to me by my roommate for my entertainment, that made my brain freeze. These two papers, stapled together in a very professional way, depict in startling detail what I, having just skimmed through the two pages, thought was, at lightest, some kind of long winded woman joke, or at worst, another misogynistic set of rules for women from the "morals and values" crowed. When I started reading it, the only thing I could say to myself with any kind of certainty is that "nobody with any understanding of the rules of common sense could not have possibly written this." These pages, however, no matter how hard I may or may not have laughed while reading them, were not only an excerpt from an actual 1950's high school home economics text book, but a rare glance into the social order of a society that looked at itself as the shining example of American freedom at that time.
The document, entitled "The Good Housewife," outlines eight steps an ideal housewife of the time should take before her husband arrives home from work. These steps are, in the order that they appear on the document: Have Dinner Ready, Prepare Yourself, Clear Away The Clutter, Prepare The Children, Minimize All Noise, Make Him Feel Comfortable, Listen To Him, and Make The Evening His. When I saw these super headings just by themselves, I was just a tad disturbed, but, of course, not surprised in the slightest. It was when I began reading the content of these super headings that I became floored.
The first step, "Have Dinner Ready," reads as follows; "Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal on time. This is a way to let him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned with his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home, and having a good meal ready is part of the warm welcome that is needed." Now, I don't know about you, but when I read this, the hairs on the back of my neck began to shiver. I mean, the polite and somewhat passive tone that this is written in, as if this was such a widely accepted conventional wisdom, left me with my jaw involuntarily half open. But, for the sake of open- mindedness ,and to see if this could get any worse, I continued to read.
I guess I will spoil the "mystery" by saying yes, it got worse. Prepare Yourself, while appearing to be slight less demanding than step one, reads like clockwork. "Take fifteen minutes to rest so that you will be refreshed when he arrives. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting. His boring day may need a lift. Greet him with a smile." Yes. You just take fifteen before the poor thing gets home from shooting the wind at a desk all day, so that you don't look so plain or gloomy for the guy. Because God forbid he finds out about how you really feel about the day. Could the rest of the page read "Just Kidding" or "Yeah Right?"
Wrong and wrong again. It, as you might have guessed already, gets even worse. Clear Away The Clutter leaves those of us who think rationally with either a chuckle or a dig right at the end. "Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives, gathering up children's books and toys, papers, etc. Then run a dust cloth over the tables. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too." I can't imagine the nerve, the raw nerve of the backwards, reactionary scumbag that wrote this garbage. Did you catch the little dig at the end, though? "and it will give you a lift too." Yes, because at the end of a long day of maintaining the house, cooking dinner, and raising the little poop stains that Dick helped create, do you know what Jane wants to do? More pointless work just to make the rest of the day after work as pleasant as possible for Dick. And I often shoot lazer beams from my eyeballs.
Speaking of the little poop stains, step four, Prepare The Children, is a real knee-slapper. "If they are small, wash their hands and faces and comb their hair. They are his little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part." As opposed to Jane, who is, apparently, his little do-it-all 5,000. Oh spare me. There's only one "little treasure" that Dick gives a flying set of brain cells about, and that is the stake that's cooking in the oven.
What would a day at the office be, thought, with out coming home to a silently obedient family? Step five calls all housewives to Minimize All Noise. "At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise from the washer, dryer, or vacuum. Encourage the children to be quiet." Because nothing quite says home like the dead silence of a church. While you're at it, why don't you just put a muzzle on the neighbor's dog and disconnect the telephone.
Step Six, however horrible the previous five steps have been, kind of takes the cake for the 'most likely to have been written by Pat Robertson' award. "Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or suggest that he lie down in the bedroom. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing voice. Allow him to relax and unwind." For my sanity to stay fit, I thank the Lord that there were only two more to read.
"You may have a dozen things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first." Yeah, Shut up, Jane, before Dick gets annoyed and, and.....and. Do you see where this becomes disturbing to read? That was Step Seven. I hope the last one doesn't blow.
No. In fact the last one is probably the worst of the eight. "Never complain if he doesn't take you to dinner or other entertainment. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his need to unwind and relax."
If you read these steps and it made you laugh, but, at the same time, made you look with an air of shock and hostility toward this very reactionary time in American history, then congratulations, you have a soul. I think this has even deeper meanings, however, because it shows just how far we have come due to the actions of social activists. Now, I'm not suggesting that one action will change the tide of social justice in this country, but I do know that if you make it known well enough that you will not be trotted upon, then you will eventually succeed. Immigrants, Former Slaves, Women, Homosexuals, and, yes, pot heads have all dealt and still deal with the same kind of self-righteously justified discrimination. Will you stand up and make a change?
With Infinite Love
Thomas F.
