Thursday, August 21, 2008


A few years ago, my angel cousin and friend, Jeanette, shared a poem with me. I have a copy of it taped to the inside of one of the cupboard doors in my kitchen. She and I had been enjoying cyber discussions about choices women make, as we pondered the choices we had made in our own lives.
Conversing with Jeanette is always enlightening and uplifting. She is an intelligent and thoughtful woman who always supports and encourages other women to make their own choices and strive to make their dreams come true - regardless of what others might think or say. She is one of the reasons I have my own little backyard cabin today. I always want her to be on my side and in my corner. Thank you dear cousin Jeanette.
Here is the poem Jeanette shared with me. I do not know its origin, but the author is listed. Jeanette and I respect the choices women make, whether the choice be to stay home or work outside one's home. We understand and respect that some women must work outside their homes in order to provide for their families. To them, staying home is not an option. The thoughts expressed by this author aren't necessarily the thoughts held by everyone who has the option of "staying home".

At 7:00 A.M. I don’t envy the mob,
Who rise, shine, and shower and go to the job.
In rain, sleet or storm, whether snowing or blowing,
I stay home and savor the joys of not going.

Cheers to you dears out fulfilling yourselves,
I’ll bake me a cake, and I’ll straighten my shelves.
I’ll write some light verse and I’ll practice some Bach…
If my neighbor drops in, I’ll take time for a talk.

I’d rather have family than fortune or fame;
I don’t think my apron’s a Red Badge of Shame.
You’re welcome to banking, computers and math,
Guns, plumbing and business, I’ll take a hot bath.

If all my three daughters grow up with the notion
Of careering through life and abjuring emotion,
The choice is all theirs and it won’t blow my cool…
But I like to be here when they get home from school.

Art, music, letters---the good things of life
Are no less my own since I’m mother and wife;
If I scrub, mop or dig in the garden, I’m free,
Remember the choices were all made by me.

Helen Lewis Coffer

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