Voiced

The snow is falling outside my office window with conviction. Forecast is a two-day snow blitz that is supposed to leave us with up to 30 cm of nice, new white stuff. (That is just short of 12 inches, American friends). Having received, with some scepticism, this news, I decided to make a run to my shopping town and stock up on groceries, fill a prescription that is due to run out at the end of the week, and generally Get Prepared. After all, Environment Canada is going to be right sooner or later.

I also badly need my untidy mop of hair dealt with.

All this is leading up to the reason for this post.

I phoned the pharmacy and said, as I recall, ‘I would like to get a prescription refill.’  The pharmacist responded by saying that she would pull my file and called me by name as she did so. ‘How did you know who it was?’ said I, in some surprise. ‘I know your voice,’ she responded. Later I phoned the hairdresser to make an appointment. ‘Fine, Mary, I have you booked,’ said the woman on the phone. ‘How did you know who it was?’ I said, rather weakly, I am afraid. ‘You have a very distinctive voice,’ said she.

Yipe.

I guess I had better never try to make an anonymous phone call, hmm?

And, no, I am not going to record anything and put it in here. I may want to call you after all, and surprise you.

Strong

I sent a card off to a woman I know the other day in which I told her that I thought she was ‘a strong person’ and that this trait made me think that her mother had done a good job of raising her.

Off and on since I sent it, I have been thinking about what I said and wondering what, exactly I meant by that. What is a ‘strong’ person anyway? Is it a good thing to be, once you define it? Talk about second guessing yourself. What did she think when she got the note? Was it a good thing to say?

So, a strong person. In my mind, a strong person is one who takes on challenges, whether personal or career related, and makes a good try at them. Maybe succeeds, in whole or in part. Maybe blows it. But, if the latter, gets up and goes at it again. And, whichever has happened, takes on the next one. A strong person is someone who can laugh at themselves*, who can be a rational human being in the face of adversity or prejudice or plain bad luck.

A strong woman can be an adventurer, someone who travels to different places for a job or an exploration. Or she can be the centre of her family, advising, encouraging, managing, supporting. Or she can be a person who learns, researches, finds out and spreads the information. Sometimes she can be more than one of these things at a time… a person who can and does the support and the job and the cause. And makes it all look easy when we know it is anything but.

It's all about picking it up at the balance point, right?

Well, you might say, what about the woman whose mother, or family, was absent or fractured and who has turned out to be a sensitive, talented and loving person anyway. In how much is a strong woman self made? The balance between nature and nurture is a topic that can fascinate. Can a child born with intelligence and talent be wrecked and wretched? Can a baby born with no advantages, or into adversity, be made strong by loving care and attention?

Is happiness relevant, even if the pursuit of it is encouraged?

At this point, I have no idea if I am a strong person myself or not. Or if I should want to be. I am, as we all are, a product of my time and with a genetic make-up inherited from my parents and forebearers**. Neither of these things is something I chose, or could choose, or control. And further, what any of us do with our talents and our teachings is limited by circumstance. Being born in Canada in this century gives a child a lot of different options than being born in, say, Syria. Or even having been born in Canada in 1920, pre antibiotics, pre Charter of Rights, pre plastic wrap.

As I re-read this for the umpteenth time, I noted with amusement that I switched part way from ‘strong person’ to ‘strong woman’. And then switched back. Right. Well, I have never really understood men anyway. In spite of, as all women must, having studied them warily all through a long life. I recall once asking my husband to explain the fascination of noisy, fast, rides – a "Seadoo" in specific, that was shooting back and forth through the wake of a power boat, young man on board. My husband said that the love of noise and speed was a man thing, he thought. And left it at that. There well may be women who love that kind of thing too.

(My long-held belief that there should not be man things and woman things is a topic for another time and place.)

All we can do, I guess, is to do as well as we can on any given day or moment or year. That takes strength. That takes all the strength we can bring to bear.


*Please note that I am, crying to myself, using the politically correct pronoun.
** Spellcheck is rejecting this but it really is a word.