Equality was Not Recognized

 In the 1960’s there was a movement. It was directed towards the removal of attitudes and practices that preserve inequalities based upon the assumption that men are superior to women. But in the Beadle’s Bungalow, women’s liberation was not promoted or practiced.

My brother and I had been assigned chores that we were responsible for doing each week for an allowance. This is a standard practice that parents employ to teach their children responsibility. In our house my brother was responsible for mowing a postage stamp lawn and burning the trash.  Apparently his skills with fire were noted and they believed he was well qualified for this task. I was challenged with washing the dishes daily.  Do you see the inequalities here?  He mowed the lawn once a week, three to four months out of the year.  He burned the trash maybe twice a week, if that.  I washed dishes every day, seven days a week, for a family of four. There were no modern dish washers in our home!

For completing our chores we were allotted a weekly allowance.  My brother earned one dollar a week and I earned fifty cents.  I was in the age bracket of single digits.  I did not understand equality.  I probably was not even aware of it, but I was aware that I got paid less than my brother and I did chores everyday verses his seasonal task of mowing the lawn.

When I questioned my Mother about the unfairness that he was paid more, she responded he was older. When I pointed out that I had chores every day and he did not, she did not see the logic in my pleas. I was being discriminated against for my age and sex! My Mother was not an equal opportunity employer! In all honesty, my Father was our employer.  He worked outside the home.  Mother managed the home and administered the payroll.

As you have read before, I question authority.  It started at a young age with curfews, but I questioned this unfair employment practice. I did not belong to a union.  I did not have a Committee man to file my grievance with.  I had to take a stand!  I had to be heard!

Children know what buttons to push to make their parents jump.  They learn what buttons to push to get what they desire.  I knew my Mother felt you needed to wash the porcelain off the dinnerware for it to be considered clean.

I am sure you have heard of the proper way to wash your hands to insure they are clean.  Wet your hands, apply soap and wash your hands while singing the Happy Birthday song.  Once you have sung through the entire song, rinse and dry.  Your hands are now germ free.

My Mother adhered to this method in dish washing as well.  Imagine how long it would take me to wash dishes for a family of four plus all the pots and pans utilized to prepare the meal. Not to mention the clean-up involved with wiping down the table and counter tops!  I had a life!

So, the buttons started to be gently pushed.  I started to lollygag. I had a plan. I was staging my own slow protest to this unfair labor practice.  Mother had a schedule, dinner prepared, children bathed and in bed by 8:30.  Cindy had her schedule. Flying in on her turquoise Schwinn, late for dinner, eat and off to her room to play, bath, bed and then reading her book of the week by the glow of the hallway light until she fell asleep or she had to fake sleeping when her Mother came up the stairs to check on us

Mother would be in the family room while I washed dishes. “Are you done yet?” “Almost.”  This went on for a while before she strolled into the kitchen to find me lollygagging.  Can I help it I only had washed one dish in the last twenty minutes?  Geez, I had to sing the Happy Birthday song and sometimes in my day dreaming I’d forget where I was in the song and just toss the rinsed fork in the strainer. 

Wouldn’t you know that was the night we had breakfast for dinner and egg particles were dried like cement between the tongs. Mother would snatch that fork up, spotting the yellow speck from a mile away, “What is this?” I was afraid to tell her a fork.  I was sure she knew this already.

She threatened me.  “I’ll pull every #$%$@&*^ dish out of this cupboard for you to wash if you need the practice!” She didn’t realize this was not a good plan, I was having a hard time doing the dishes for four in a reasonable amount of time, and she would have to pull an all-nighter if she pulled every dish out of the cupboard. Weren’t there Child Labor laws that were being violated?

The bewitching hour of bath time was quickly approaching, if I could just draw this out a little bit more, she’ll throw the towel in the sink and wash the dishes herself.  She did have a schedule that she followed religiously every night.  Be patient. Lollygag.  Daydream.  Score, here she comes, “Go get in the bath tub, you are going to bed early!”  I could hardly wait to “See Spot Run” by the glow of the hallway light.