The 60's

I rolled the waistband of my skirt up one more time before I reached the double doors of the high school I attended. If the skirt was too short, the principal would make you go home and change. Parents wanted modesty to protect their little girls but we just wanted to fit in. We wanted acceptance more than anything. We listened to music and looked at magazines. Most of us didn't really think about what we were doing all that much.

In retrospect, I realize that we were reacting to what was going on in the colleges, among the intelligentsia, who were experimenting with sex and drugs. They were pushing the limits, questioning the norms. The sexual revolution of the 60's has had far reaching consequences.

We can't go back... but we could bend the direction we're going as a society if women could regain their self-respect. Women that dress modestly say,"I am a person worth getting to know. I respect myself and I wouldn't think of letting anyone cross my boundaries."


Rococo

Death of a Hero

Sitting in the magazine section at the local grocery story, I studied the subject of manhood. It was 1959 and I was eight years old. I came here every week on Saturdays while my mother shopped for our family groceries. I always went straight for the magazines, comic books to be exact. I liked a wide variety of comics, but one of my favorites was Superman. He was an exciting and handsome hero. There was mystery, adventure, romance, and rescue. I could trust Superman to do the right thing... always.

There were other magazines in that section that portrayed a different aspect of manhood. I knew they were forbidden but I sneaked a look out of curiosity. They were for bad men, I figured out. I had seen "bad men" when my father, an attorney, took me with him to the county jail. So I had these two, very definitive categories in my mind for men. There were the heros, like my dad and Superman and there were the other kind of men who were scary, bad, untrustworthy.

My ideal of Superman died in the 70's with the remake of the old movie. Superman for the first time in my knowlege did a bad thing. I was a young adult, expectantly watching my old hero in big, bold, color with all the newest film technology. He had everything going for him...and what did this former hero do? He spent the night with Lois Lane. He was still strong and brave and able to stop bullets, but he could not control his passion. He was not self-sacrificing.

Last night, thirty years later, I found out what happened to my former hero. Sad, but true. Having fathered an illegitimate child and leaving his lover, he missed the first five years of his son's life in order to satisfy his desire to find his lost planet. He returns to find Lois living with another lover. Of course, Superman is still in love with her. So then we have this weird triangle where her new lover is really a very nice guy and even helps save Superman's life and Lois loves them both. Superman's little boy stands around looking bewildered.

I'm bewildered too. Because this sordid mess is a reflection of our culture today. Just who do kids look up to when the adults around them have such messed up lives? Well, I guess there is still Spiderman... I can always hope that he does the right thing. Better to marry than burn. I just thought "superman" knew that. The special effects were great anyway.

Rococo

To Women

Do you ladies out there realize how much we have lost as a result of feminism?

Ironic... We started out wanting reasonable things like equal pay for equal work and voting rights. Women wanted recognition for their work and equality in the workplace.

Now women are raising kids by themselves and working fulltime jobs outside the home to provide for the family. Kids are growing up without fathers around. Women feel they should be able to do anything that men can do, including go to war.

How has this happened?
1. Donald Duck started wearing dresses.
2. Grown men watched Pee Wee Herman until they all became wimps.
3. Something bad happened in the 1960's.

The correct answer is number 3.

More later.
Rococo