“I want her brains and I want her charm. Her husband, however, I could do without.” I’ll let you come to your own conclusions but I’m going to have to agree with my Aunt. Hillary Clinton is an impressive and accomplished woman. We were all (the Secretary of State included) at the United Nations this morning remembering Eleanor Roosevelt. I couldn’t stop looking around the room at all the well-dressesd, important looking attendees. Ten feet away from me sat an elegant and stylish older woman wearing aviator sunglasses and a leather jacket with her hair pulled back in a pony tail. She looked so put together and so cool that I couldn’t stop looking at her. Oh no big deal, it was just Gloria Steinem.
Thirty minutes earlier I sat in the back seat of the car in Holland tunnel rush-hour traffic, trying desperately to find a way to remember that Donovan Bodies on biopsy go with granulomatous inguinale. I asked my Mom and Aunt for help. Oh, that’s easy, it sounds like a name: Granuloma I. Donovan. Not sure that’ll do the trick but I appreciated their effort (and enthusiasm). The boards, Step 1, are hanging over my head and sucking the life out of me page by page, disease by disease, tumor supressor by oncogene.
But this morning I took a break from my windowless study-dungeon and accompanied my Mom, my Aunt, and my Step-father to the U.N. It was a fundraising event to preserve Eleanor Roosevelt’s house, Val Kill. In my head I kept calling it Val Kilmer, and I was horrified I might accidentally say that outloud to someone.
But anyway, the message that I took away from the morning was simple: you are surrounded by 300 incredibly impresssive women right now, look around and take note, now why don’t you get your ass in gear and do something, stop sitting on your bum and stop being useless. The delivery and tone of this message was not nagging, however, it was inspiring. I left and I wanted to be like Hillary and Gloria and all the women who were sitting at my table: powerful, intelligent, and doing something.
Instead, Granulomatous I. Donovan and I will return to my windowless basement/study-cave. When I emerge I might be 75 years old (or 30ish) but I know that whoever I am, where ever I am, and whatever I’m doing, I will be a woman who wears aviator sunglasses and who wears a leather jacket, and of course, who kicks ass.
“It’s good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.” -E.H.