I AM WOMAN

“I am strong (strong), I am invincible (invincible), I am woman (ooh)”- Helen Reddy lyrics
March is Women’s History Month…They say that behind every powerful man is a good woman (or something similar like that). I tend to think the same thing except I’d inject “beside” because as Tammy Wynette once sang, “Stand By Your Man”. The only time a woman should be behind her man is if he is in a position to act as a barrier or shield her from any kind of onslaught. I also love it when men name their sailing vessels after women, too.

With all this said I have conjured up this written piece dedicated to women. Some the content of it rhymes and does not, it is real and it is fantasy. It is also serious as well as whimsical. It is convoluted too. This piece will not do it justice because of the infinite number of women I’d like to chronicle, it is impossible so there will also be endless glaring omissions as well. However, I invite you to compile your own list to carry on the great legacy of those who bring forth mankind…

Mother Mary said, “yes.”, Rosa said, “no.” and Helen said (nor saw) nothing at all because the silence was so deafening but what she did spoke volumes and was out of sight.

Billie sang the blues and Poles Antonia & Irena helped save thousands of Jews. Dolly had Washington taken down but I could never figure out if Mona smiled or frowned. There was an Ali-Frazier IV with Laila and Jacqui getting it on. Sadly, Janis and Amy joined the “27” and yet Jen helped bring to us miracles from heaven. Annie grabbed her gun and Karen sang we’ve only just begun. Marilynn was more than a great figure while Joan hid hers and led an army. Both Nadia and Bo were both a perfect “10”. Clara started The Red Cross and Diana sang, “Who’s The Boss” Anne spoke Frankly and Rachel said, “I Am Not Ashamed”, Flo Jo was fast and fashionable, Kristie and Kwan glided, Nancy looked like Katherine and glided too, Simone vaulted and was superb, Amelia flew, and Sheryl shot great hoops, Billie Jean came out and beat a man, Lindsey skied and modeled too. Countless Queens were crowned too: Elizabeth, B, Isabella, Aretha, Tina, Stevie, Donna, Madonna, Janet while Dolly and Whitney both sang, “I will always love you”. Some princesses too like Leia, Lisa Marie and Di made us cry when they said goodbye, and Vanessa had her crown stripped away but did save the best for last. Mother T said give them to me, The other Mary was the one of the last to see HIM as he died but was also first to see HIM when he rose, Oprah has the Midas Touch, Carole, Carly and Alicia hit the keys, Mariah and Adele have great pipes, Betsy sewed the stars and stripes, Raquel bedazzled in one million years B.C., Then there were Bangles, The Go Go’s, Charlie’s Angels and The Indigo Girls. Miranda and Carrie have plenty of Faith. Jennifer did some dirty dancing while Lea made all the right moves and both battled in Red Dawn. Demi saw a ghost and shaved her head. Audrey had breakfast at Tiffany’s. The Iron Lady took the reins. Molly looked pretty in pink. Julia worked for the O.S.S. before becoming a chef. The other Julia is a very pretty woman, Serena and Venus vanquished many foes and even each other. Barbra gave us memories of the way we were. Lynda was a real wonder woman and so was Gal. Olivia got physical. Meg won both the Congressional Medal of Honor and the lottery. Rosie helped with the war effort. Halle was a first & Michelle dealt with dangerous minds but both had fangs and claws. Goldie went overboard. Susan fought for rights while Harriet fought slavery. Sophia ate pasta and drank wine while having desire under the elms. Susan said, “I’ll cry tomorrow.” Little Shirley had golden locks. Sinead and Dolores were Irish lasses who went home too soon and Maureen loved a quiet man. One lady went gaga after listening to one of the queens. Everyone loved Lucy. Sharon was quick on the draw. Nicole dealt with the others far and away. Emma helped free the four. Sally wants to feed the children, the other Sally told Forest goodbye. Taylor made a swift shift. Sisters Anne and Abby gave us counsel. Tatum was the only girl. Judy said there is no place like home. Rita lived on the west side. Jennifer and the other Latina showed their hips don’t lie. Dian and Jane studied our nearest cousin. Cleopatra married Marc Antony 2x and was friends with both Rock and Michael. Florence took care of the wounded well into the night. Ruth wore her black robe for years. Bette and Joan also battled for years. Mary chronicled New England and Liz told everyone the news and became a pastor.

We can go on and on…

This painting and poem are about the twist and turns of the road of life and how it can be managed with a sober and clear mind. There may be darkness surrounding you but the gold represents the strength that is contained in living a sober life. It was made in honor of my son who finished a six month recovery program.

Golden Passage

This was not a road handed to you.
No one laid it gently at your feet
or cleared the stones ahead of time.
You found it by walking—
through doubt, through ache,
through the long hours when forward
felt invisible.
This passage was earned
step by honest step,
with hands that learned how to let go
and a heart brave enough to stay.
Gold does not mean easy.
It means forged.
It means tested by fire
and still choosing light.
Today you stand at the threshold,
not finished, but free—
carrying your hard-won tools,
your truth,
your breath.
I painted this knowing
that what shines here
is not perfection,
but perseverance.
May this passage remind you,
on days when the road feels narrow again,
that you have already crossed
from darkness into your own keeping.
And you did not walk alone.
But you did walk it yourself.
—Mom

Anxiety

A knot in my stomach, a racing heartbeat and a sudden worry about everything. Confusion, stress and asking why. But I never lose faith, I never lose hope. I see greatness in everything. I see beauty. I find ways to cope. I stay positive, I stay patient. I think of how there’s still good people in the world. I observe nature and how there’s still love. Overwhelmed with my own thoughts, I find comfort in the things I love. I say to myself I’m unique, I’m beautiful, I am invaluable. I am enough. Never give up, you’re inspiring. Always stay calm and keep smiling. Stay confident. You got this!

TROPES

Tropes were skits performed during Mass in medieval churches. They illustrated episodes of the Bible. Now, i have written out some tropes based on mythical characters: Adam, Cain, Noah’s wife, Isaac, Jonah, Lazarus, Herod’s Private Dancer, Epimetheus (brother to Prometheus, the fire-thief), the Prodigal Son, Lilith (daughter to the Devil), and American legend Johnny Appleseed.

These tropes are easy to read. I have tried to stylize my characters’ speech, as though they were interviewing a reporter. Please enjoy them as slowly as you can, like good wine.

ADAM

It may surprise you to see that I am literate. Well, you see, as the Good Book says, “En to archein, en to logos.” (For those of you with brighter Latin than Greek, that means: “In the Beginning was the Word.”) And that was me. In the Beginning. God permitted me to name all the plants and animals. As if that weren’t enough, I had to name all of them in a zillion different languages, for all posterity to come. I asked God, couldn’t I just name each one once, and have done with it? But Nooooo, He had a plan of his own that I know nothing about. Still does.

And that brings me to the subject of Eve. “What for?” I asked Him when he suggested we subtract one of my ribs. “To make you a helpmeet”, He replied in that incontrovertible voice. So I didn’t controvert Him, I just grinned and bore it.

And I’m sure you’re all dying to hear the part about the Apple. Well, you’ll just have to grin and bear it, because I’m not supposed to tell you.

CAIN

I don’t regret it for a moment! That brother of mine had all the luck, and I had none. He’d sacrifice–God accepted. I’d sacrifice–nothing doing. He was beautiful and he shone with light; God made me dark and hairy. Even Adam, who was basically just, treated Abel better than me. Eventually I got so mad I just had to whack him upside the head. And that was the end of that.

But since then I’ve felt restless, and oppressed, and frightened, and guilty. I roam about the world without a home, because I can’t settle down. I left my plough in the field, to rust away or be excavated by a future archaeologist. I don’t know what happened to Abel’s flocks–perhaps the wolves got ’em. The wise men tell me I cannot die, but must go on, suffering and homeless, through eternity.

Especially, I miss the women. I feel such yearning for the ‘feminine touch’ that sometimes I approach the villages to reconnoitre. And sometimes I see a dark and buxom woman; but when she sees me she panics, and runs back to her hut. What’s wrong with me? Is it something I said? Is it something I did?

NOAH’S WIFE

To begin with, the stench was awful. The wild animals especially, have a gamey, hairy, threatening smell that’s bad enough in the wild, but cooped up on the ship, with the rain keeping them soaked…? One zebra was worse than twenty dogs would have been, and she wasn’t in heat. What could we do? It wasn’t my idea to build an “ark”. It was his. Or His. My hubby apparently got orders from above; that’s what he told me, and being a man-fearing woman I believe him. Sure enough, after he’d got that boat built, it started to cloud up real ominous, and out of nowhere came the beasts–the domestic ones that lived near at hand first, then the more distant wild ones, till I figured they were all in, but more kept coming, and coming….This ain’t in the books, but Noah had to build on an additional deck, to accommodate them all.

Well, by then it had commenced raining. Not a soft, loving April shower, but a good old July thunderstorm. Oh, yes, Jehovah wasn’t kidding around. He took real pleasure in the artistry of lightning, thunder, wind and rain. We thought that, like every July thunderstorm, it would soon pour itself out. But it didn’t. It went on like that for more than five weeks. Day after day, night after night, though the difference between them was not all that obvious. You’d think that the beasts would have been at each others’ throats, what with the crowding and the hunger (we had no provisions aboard). But Jahweh saw fit to instill peace amongst us during that time, and we seemed able to live on air. And you should have heard the tales we told to pass away the time. Just like this one!

ISAAC

I trusted my father, yes, because he’d never given me reason not to. In fact, he’d given me plenty of reasons to trust him. I mean he was always there when I needed him, and he was a good provider, and he was good to my mother and all. So when he told me to go before him, I went as natural as rain.

We went farther and farther into the wilderness, and the servants behind and Daddy carrying the torch, and I carrying the wood, and no sign of the sacrifice. Weary. Hot. Dry. Scary. At last we reached a spot in the desert–it looked to me just like every other spot in the wilderness–where Daddy told the serving-men to wait, and I saw the gleam of steel in his hand. And we plodded ahead, and lo, a huge flat rock, just made for sacrifice. But there was no animal there, so at last I began to get worried, for I’d seen that gleam of steel in his hand, and he was still carrying the torch. So I asked him: “Father, we’ve come to sacrifice, but here there is no sacrificial animal.” Then he told me.

Well, I was scared, but I wasn’t angry, and I didn’t run, and I didn’t fight. I just kind of gave up, and I lay down looking into the sky, and I waited for that gleaming steel to do its work.

And then nothing happened. He told me to get down off the rock, so I did; he tore a ram from the surrounding bushes (I hadn’t noticed it before, perhaps God put it there); and we sacrificed that and went home.

Whew!

JONAH

I was transported here to Nineveh. But how shall I tell you so you’ll believe? I was sent here, called here, by my God’s voice. At first I resisted: No, Lord, you’ve got the wrong number. Right church, wrong pew, Lord. Yet the Voice urged me on.

So I took ship to sail in the opposite direction. More fool me. And a storm came up, and it battered the ship, and even the sailors were scared. Being superstitious people, they needed a scapegoat. They organized a lottery to choose that scapegoat, and, of course, the lot fell to me.

So they pitched me overboard. By this time the storm was so bad I did not care about Nineveh, all I needed was my soul. And then this sea-monster came up and swallowed me whole, and I went down into its bowels. It was hot and steamy down there, and I felt like I was cooking, or being cooked. Yet there was a silence within me, where there had been a nagging voice, because now I was sure of my soul and of my calling. There was something magical about the belly of Leviathan: like there was too much power to worry about.

And then he vomited me out, and I found myself on the sand, face to face with this city, see, and I had an inkling. And I asked a passing stranger, and he said “Yes, that’s Nineveh.”

LAZARUS

‘And when he had thus spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth! And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with graveclothes: and his face was bound about with a napkin.’ (John 11:43-44)

I waited and waited, and the stench became awful, and goblins came out of the corners, and lights began to flicker, and I knew I was descending in my spirit–because we all are spirits, you know–and I came to this bridge, see, over a chasm that was too dark and sticky-black to see much into. And the bridge was seemingly part of the landscape, not man-made–how could it have been man-made? when only dead men pass that way?–and it was dreadful narrow, and I had to cross it or else: for I didn’t dare to turn around and look back, it was too unbearably bright, and to either side were geysers of fire, and below was pitchblack, so I had no choice but to cross the bridge, and I did. So through the mountains I went, dry as a bone and red as blood but neither, just hot rocks, until I came to a river, but there was no way across that, I had never learned to swim. So I sat there by the riverbank. And then I heard a rustling as of wings, and a great eagle came down and clasped me in its talons and flew back with me to the cave where my body lay, and I heard a voice of command and authority outside that said “Lazarus, come forth!” And I remembered that used to be my name, and I wondered, What now? and I stumbled out of the cave. There were hordes of sightseers, and my sisters and our friend Jesus, and I thanked my lucky stars he’d sprung me off that riverbank.

HEROD’S PRIVATE DANCER

You know, I’m not very important. I’m just Herod’s private dancer. I do what he tells me to do. For a remuneration. Of course. Yet, as a result of our private relationship, I can exert some influence on Herod. You know how men are: they always want a little bit more; maybe it’s the way they’re built.

Anyway, I had gotten pretty bored with Herod, and was looking around, on the sly, for something additional. Not for more money. Oh no, old Herod was generous enough in that regard. But maybe for a little love? Something a little adventurous and quirky? For daytime, when Herod was busy? Well, one of my girlfriends discreetly told me about this guy John, who baptized the people in the river, and wore WILD clothes and ate locusts and honey. So one day I slipped away with her and went down to the river and had a look. Not to be baptized or anything, but just to scope him out. And he was gorgeous: long ragged hair, lean body, commanding presence….He was just what the madame ordered. I went back to the palace a happy woman. But when I sent secret messengers to him to tell him I wanted to see him, he refused! Gave no explanation, just turned his back and muttered prayers.

So finally I went myself. He lived in this grubby old cave in a cliff on the riverbank. It didn’t smell bad in there, but you could tell it lacked the feminine touch. But he just mumbled into his beard that I should repent and cleanse myself in the river. Of all the nerve! I was clean, and scented, and painted to look like a queen, while he was grubby and dirty and needed a beard-trim, and he’s telling me to cleanse myself in the river? So I went home in a huff, and danced that seductive way before Herod, and he, being of the weaker sex, gave in to my demand, and now I have John’s skull nailed over the mirror, to remind god which is the stronger, celibacy or sexuality.

THE PRODIGAL SON

You know, I never expected any of it. I never expected Father to go along when I asked for my portion of the inheritance early. I didn’t expect spending it to be so much fun. And then, when the money ran out, I didn’t expect life to be so mean. I mean nasty. Somebody once said: Nobody knows you when you’re down and out.

I was lucky to get the job herding swine. But the bad part was, the swine were eating better than I was. So I got to thinking: Father’s hired men eat better than I do. He was what you might call a kulak, a successful farmer. Trouble was, I’d already played that card. I’d taken my portion and left. For good. Or for worse, as it turned out. So, for a while, I just sweated and starved.

But as another week rolled around, and I was getting weak with malnutrition, I says, Hey, what have I got to lose? Sure, he might turn me away. But then I’d be no worse off than now, really. And at least I could die trying. So I took leave of the pigs and started for home.

By the time I got to my Father’s gate, I was feeling so guilty that I was sweating arrow-heads. All I could do was take a breath and rush through the gate, with my hands in the air like they might try to shoot me. But the first man I met, he was an old cattle-hand, smiled and greeted me by name. Still, it seemed like a Judge waiting for me up ahead, and not my Father. As I approached the doorway, I walked slower and slower. I was ready to kiss his feet. I didn’t know what to say, but I just figured the Good Lord would inspire my tongue.

Strangely, my Father spoke for me. “He’s come from far away,” he said. “He’s seen the error of his ways. He’s come home.”

And with that, I knew it had been worth the trip.

EPIMETHEUS

After my brother–you know him? Prometheus? his name’s in all the papers–after my brother got crucified to the rock for helping the human race, whoever they might be, I went up to see him. First, of course, I checked with the Authorities, and they said Yes, visiting hours for the crucified are Tuesday afternoons. Then I had to think of something to bring him, and after a lot of thought I decided on a ring of dried figs, like what the stores carry around Christmastime, (if they have Christmas near where you are). And I put on my heaviest woollies, ’cause it gets wicked cold in the Caucasus. And I chopped off my toes beforehand, just in case. The mountain wants a sacrifice, you know.

Well, anyway, the townspeople dwelling at the base of the Caucasus pointed out which mountain was Prometheus’. It was a long climb, but higher up I could tell where my brother was by the flock of vultures. So I got there at last, and I felt a combination of shame and rage at seeing him there. I had to feel sorry for my brother in such a situation. His head was slumped over on his breast. He was stark naked, and his wrists were manacled to those pitons in the rock. I called out to him from a distance, so as not to startle him. He awoke with a jerk, but his wrists hurt him so that he cringed with the sudden movement.

“Hello, brother,” I said.

“Come closer, but watch the vulture shit,” he replied.

Well, after news of home (I had to tell him that Pandora’d opened that box and all,) we got into a discussion of the rights and wrongs of his case. As you know, Zeus had Prometheus pegged to the precipice because he’d stolen fire for humanity (and done a great deal else for them too, those ungrateful species!). And as far as I know, there will be no termination for Prometheus’ punishment. I asked my brother Titan, then, whether giving humanity fire was worth it? He stuck out his chin and averred it was; that just as these gods had overcome their father, so an upcoming generation from somewhere would slay or imprison these gods; that humanity itself might be able to do the trick, for they are a sly and cunning race; and finally (my brother maintained) a hero even now was on his way to break those shackles and free the Forethinker.

Well, you can believe I took issue with him on some of these points. In the first place, although I felt shame and rage at seeing him like this, yet it was the judgment of Almighty Zeus that put him there. And even granted it was unjust, still it is pretty difficult to argue with the Lightning Bearer. As for the future, I saw little to come of the human race. Yes, a hero might do something, but what are the chances he’d be interested in wandering around the Caucasus looking for trouble?

So eventually we agreed to disagree, and I asked him whether he had any request? He said yes, he had a craving for pizza.

LILITH

I was born before Eve. I was born before Adam, too, if that makes a difference. Lucifer is my father–I am made of the effluence of his effervescence. (How’s that for poetry!?) I therefore have no mother, nor any need for one. And I seduced Adam, before even Eve was thought of. And we had such a delicious love! Me in my flames (ice cold) and Adam in his cool innocence. Jehovah must have nodded over that one, for neither of us ever suffered His usual wrath at bodily pleasure; He being pure Spirit, you know, doesn’t appreciate that kind of thing.

So then God extracted a rib from poor Adam and conjured it into Eve, and our relationship was over. His had just begun.

JOHNNY APPLESEED

I rather used to fancy myself as the sower in the Lord’s parable. I believe it’s in Mark. Where some seed falls on rock, and some in sand, and some in thorns, and some in fertile soil. So I never took much care where my appleseed fell. I figured if I threw out enough seed, by the laws of probability some of it would reach maturity and bear fruit–with seeds in it. And what I have to say is, I lived my life, and chose my occupation, in pretty much the same way. Maybe I would never amount to much, but then there were millions already on this land, and most of those would bear fruit, and the folk would go on, with me or without me. Saint Paul says, “I’d have you not be too careful”. Sure, mine was a carefree life, in the growing season anyway. I have one life to live, and this is the way I’ve chosen to live it.