You Don’t Have to be Fabulous

I have four fabulous sons.  I have a mostly fabulous husband.  And at some points in my life I too might have been considered fabulous.

Recently I felt fabulous – momentarily – as one of my sons told me of a conversation with a friend of his.  “Your mom is intimidating. She is an impressive writer.” He quickly reassured her,  “Oh, she is not nearly so impressive unedited!”

According to Christmas letters and Facebook pages most all of my friends are fabulous.

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What’s a Woman to Think?

 

 A Tale of  Ambush by Sexist Feminists

I am tired of hearing that, because I am a woman, I must think a certain way or vote for a particular candidate.  The notion that women should be allowed to think for themselves is certainly foundational to the feminist movement, but you would never know that listening to heads of various women’s organizations, prattling on about how women do not support Romney.

They don’t speak for me, and they certainly do not think for me.

These “women’s leaders” claim that one candidate is anti-woman because he does not want to force all employers to provide insurance coverage for contraceptives.  Does caring about women require the religious freedom of some to be infringed to provide a financial benefit to others? Cheaper gas would free up a lot of money for contraceptives or whatever else a woman might decide she values most.

They claim Obama is a stronger champion of equal pay for equal work, but that has little value when you have no job and the equal pay equals zero.

They even took issue with Romney’s debate language of “binders full of women” claiming it was offensive. Really?

Climb On, Emmanuel

“Stories allow us to imagine and live momentarily the lives of others.  And thereafter set a different course and perspective for the life we seek to live.”                                                                                                                                Emmanuel Manirakiza

I hesitated to post this because it makes everything I write seem silly in comparison. But it is a story that must be told.

Through the generosity of the Morehead-Cain Scholars Program, my second son, Andrew, was able to work at the African Leadership Academy in Johannesburg, South Africa this past summer.  While there he met Emmanuel Manirakiza.

This is Emmanuel’s story.

Another ALA student, Andrew, and Emmanuel Manirakiza.

Emmanuel Manirakiza: Uphill Climb

Originally written and posted by Andrew Powell at APatALA on May 31, 2012

I have a new friend, and his name is Emmanuel Reed Manirakiza. Last week, I was fortunate enough to hear a bit of his life story, as he spoke in front of African Leadership Academy. A small, smiling boy from Rwanda stood before a group of 200, but for ten minutes, the room felt almost empty, as if Emmanuel and I were the only two there.

I did not know a group of 17-19 year olds could pay such reverence and respect to one of their peers.

A Notable Classmate

Row 2 Far Right Guess Who!

Recently in “Miss Molly Goes to Harvard” I told the story of my first day at Harvard Law School, a simple God-fearing, Auburn football-loving sorority girl entering a new world. I failed to mention one notable classmate.  Here is a clue . . . while I call my blog In-House Counsel she could start a blog and call it In-the-White-House-Counsel.

Yes, Michelle Robinson Obama was in my Harvard Law Class of 1988. Above and below are our yearbook pictures from our third year. (Her also notable husband came along a year or so after we left.)

I do wish I had fun stories to share of days spent debating politics

Miss Molly Goes to Harvard

Not your average first day of school story from not your average Harvard Law student 

It is the fall of 1985, and I have arrived at Harvard Law School in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  Other students enter the dorm carrying duffel bags and milk crates.  I have matched luggage, a U-Haul trailer, and two parents in tow. We unload, creating for me a nest of familiar things.

I miss Mr. Joe – the wizened African-American man who worked for my family for many years doing yard work and odd jobs.  He had always helped me move in and out of college dorms at Auburn.  One year he told my mom ”I do believe that Miss Molly is moving out more than she moved in.” I don’t think I would have ever lived it down if Mr. Joe had helped me move in at Harvard.

My parents start the 24-hour drive back to sweet home Alabama,

Bogey was Here

“The aim of the boy is to tell the world  ‘I am a force to be reckoned with.’”  Having known four boys quite well, I agree.  Here are some thoughts on boys finding their callings.

Dear Sons,

On a morning walk through Krutch Park  in downtown Knoxville, I notice something that should not be there.

The juvenile scrawl, in black Sharpie marker on the creek-side boulder, proclaims to all who pass  “Bogey was here.” Other stones bear witness to the date and time of the visit and to Bogey’s love of soccer.  One displays a drawing of a flag, firmly planted in the rock.   Bogey left his mark.

When I come across the vandalism, I am confused and even angered.  How can a child be so selfish? How could he have so little respect for the beauty of the setting, provided by the goodness of another?  And even the self-righteous “Where was his mother?” These are valid questions, but not the most interesting.  Instead, why did Bogey do it?

I think of the upcoming events of the day.   We are in Knoxville for Owen to compete in the decathlon in an attempt to qualify for the National AAU Junior Olympics . 

The Upside of an Upside-Down Resume

The Upside of an Upside-Down Resume

Recently I had to update my resume.  While no one really enjoys the task, it is just one of those things regularly done, like taking out the trash or going to the dentist.

But I had not touched the thing in 24 years.  When you are self-employed or volunteering, no one is checking a resume.  A husband, trusting you with everything he owns and is, does not scan your educational credentials.  A child, about to give you the significant task of becoming his mother, does not first look for evidence of parenting skills.

But my husband and I had been invited to apply to join an organization called L3, and, unfortunately, they needed a resume.

After searching in vain for a digital copy of my old one (Did I even have a computer in 1988?), I decided to start from scratch.  I found a template online and began.

Name, address, and education:  Auburn University.  Harvard Law School.  I’m on a roll here.  This is not so bad.