Connie

There are some women who age gracefully. There are others, well, they just age. Then there are those who age kicking and screaming all the way, not wanting to give up an ounce of youth until they absolutly have to.

 

This is Connie.

 

Connie's about sixty three, maybe sixty four, but you would never know. Her shocking blue eyes catch your attention, followed only by her warm smile. She is trim, hip and chic. She's not your average grandma.

 

Connie and her husband were married right out of high school. She would joke that her betrothed had to get permission from his mommy, since he was only seventeen. The wedding picture looks like something from the Patridge Family. She in her peasant dress and he in his fringed vest. They've been married for forty years.

 

I could never understand how at the beginning of Women's Movement why anyone would want to get married two days out of high school, that was until recently.

 

Connie grew up with a father he didn't think highly of her. He berate her, verbally beat her down. She was told she wasn't  worthy of a college education. She was made to believe that she wasn't suppose to amount to anything.

 

I met Connie at church. She and I were in a new members class. We both enjoyed music and even preformed one of her original pieces together. We became quick friends. A friendship that I wished I could have with my own mother. Then Connie started coming less and less.

 

The church I belong to is very progressive. There is a band, in place of an organ. The pastor doesn't wear robes or even a collar. It truly is a come as you are. Some people wear jeans, some suits. There are single adults, couples young and old and lots and lots of kids. Although the congregation is progressive, the church doctorine is not. Missori Synod Luthern is very traditional in its views of what men and women's roles are in the church.

 

Recently, our pastor made a calling to the congregation for a pastor aide. He said with not much fanfare, that it was a position for men only.

 

After that, Connie stopped coming at all.

 

I miss my friend, but I understand. I only hope she finds the peace that has eluded her.

 

For Connie, after so many years of oppression, she couldn't tolerate another father telling her, she wasn't worthy enough.

Reviews

[Otter]

Nice story, JC. I'm glad I have some time to catch up reading your work. Well done, again!