Wife

Wife... well now I am one.  While I'm thrilled to be Andy's wife, and couldn't be happier, there is something about the word wife that doesn't sound great.

Maybe it is because our society and culture links the term wife with "the old ball and chain", or other negative connotations.

Maybe it is because I don't like the sound of the word.  Wife.

It reminds me of my Dad's saying, "Happy Wife means Happy Life".

While I know he is joking, there is some truth to this for people.  And I think that the sarcastic tone to the comment often means that you just have to do what your wife says... I don't want to be that wife.  And I don't think I am.  I think that we need to reinvent the meaning of wife.... or maybe just reinforce the positives of the word.  So here is my attempt at it:

Wife: a woman who is a partner in crime, a dedicated, loving, individual who works hard at her relationship.  A woman who is thoughtful, not demanding.  Supportive, not nagging.  And FUN, NOT BORING!

I don't know... maybe I'm just crazy, and I'm having an issue adjusting with my new identity (not my new role, let's be clear here, this is purely semantics!).  I hope to learn to love the title.  I do love saying that Andy is my husband.  (So much better than fiance! ugh what a word!)  And it is easier to explain things, like weekends away visiting my in-laws, rather than my fiancé's family, or my boyfriend's family.... husband and wife are much simpler terms.

Something more complicated is that I have chosen to keep my own name.  I am not changing to become Molly Hinterman.  I just can't let go of my name.  I've been Molly Doolittle Perkins for 33 years, and I can't imagine it any other way.  I have come across many different reactions to this choice.  And I find them all interesting.  I have been thinking about this topic for a while since I read a post on Off Beat Bride about it.

http://offbeatbride.com/2010/05/last-name-study

This post discusses a study on what people thought of women who changed their names, and women who didn't.  The results are fascinating.  Here is part of the results they found (Copied and pasted directly from the link above):

Some Dutch researchers from Tilburg Universityrecently published a paper about the judgments that married women encounter based on their last name choice.

According to their research, women who take their partner's names or hyphenate were seen as:

• more caring
• more dependent
• less intelligent
• more emotional
• less competent
• less ambitious

...than women who kept their last names.

Meanwhile, women who keep their last names were seen as:

• less caring
• more independent
• more ambitious
• more intelligent
• more competent

The real kicker? They found that women who took their husband's last names were less likely to be hired for jobs, and made significantly less money.

So basically, I'm less caring, but independent, ambitious, intelligent and competent.  Now I can say that the majority of my married friends fall into the same category as I do.... keeping our names.  I do however have many acquaintances and some close friends who did take their husband's names (or they hyphenated with their partner).  I find that all of these women in my circle of friends have qualities of independence, ambitiousness, intelligence, competence, and are very caring people.  Obviously whether you keep your name or change it, it really doesn't say anything about your traits.  Yet what this study shows, and what Ariel, (OBB) narrowed it down to, is either way you go, you are judged... so do what you want!

I have had some very negative reactions to telling people that I'm still "just" Molly Doolittle Perkins, and I've had some extremely supportive reactions too.  I guess some of this all ties into the "wife" feeling.  So it isn't that I don't love Andy, or any of the Hintermans.  I love them all and I'm very glad to call them my family.  But I just can't let go of my Perkinsness.  I feel like my name is part of me.  And it just sounds so foreign and weird for me to call myself anything else.

So judged or not, I'm Molly Doolittle Perkins, and I'm sticking to it.  I know that I'll probably be called Mrs. Hinterman when we have kids, and people have addressed me this way already in the last month (since we've been married that long).  I don't take offense to it, but I do take a little step back when I hear it, because
a. I'm not used to it,
b. it sounds strange because it is new, and
c. people assume

I'm sure I'll get used to it and it'll become second nature, just as now I can't really tell the difference if someone calls me Molly or Mol... It will just take time.  And really, it is an honor to be called Mrs. Hinterman, because the last Mrs. Hinterman, Jan, Andy's Mom, was a great lady.

9/11 nine years later

Today I spent time with my family.  I went for a run (much shorter than Andy's), and then we hopped in the car, picked up Jennie and Charlotte, and headed home to CT.

I wasn't really thinking too much about what the date is.  Andy mentioned it in the car, and  Mom brought it up when we were on the beach.  She said that she woke up remembering the day.  She and Dad were in the car at going tag sailing, and she glanced at the clock.  It was 8:47, the time that the first plane hit one of the towers.  It was a sad and eerie thing to notice.

I feel like I should have been more conscious of today.  I went about my day not really thinking about the date.  It feels strange not to be too aware of it.  I will never forget that day, and the horror I saw as I watched the details on the t.v. screen.  I grew up hearing many adults telling me that they knew exactly what they were doing when they heard that J.F.K. was shot.  One of those moments seared into your brain that you will never forget.  9/11 was one of those moments for me.

I'll never forget.  I was driving from my apartment in Waltham to my gym.  I was flipping through the radio stations and came across Howard Stern.  But his voice was strange, and he wasn't being a sarcastic asshole.  He said something along the lines of , "This kind of thing makes you just want to go home and hug your kid".  Then of course I didn't know what was happening, and they were describing their shock, but not giving any details.  I frantically switched around the radio stations until I heard that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center tower.  I decided that I should turn around and go home.  I did stop along the way to tell my boss at the flower shop what had happened.  (We had this satellite radio system that was on a loop, and not really connected to the outside world).  I rushed home and turned on the t.v. and spoke to my mom on the phone.  All I could think of was, get those people out of there.  The building is going to collapse.  It was horrifying.

The news trickled in.  And I found out that there had been a plane that went down in Pennsylvania, and that Washington had been hit too.  I felt this terrible feeling of doom.  Wondering if Boston would be hit as well.  For the next few days I watched t.v. and listened to the radio.  Along with our whole nation, hoping that they would find more survivors.

God what a horrible day.  I swore I would never forget.  And in a way, I felt like I did a little today.  I have a strange sense of guilt about that.  Maybe it didn't cross my mind right away because it was Saturday.  Maybe because we didn't have a moment of silence at school.  Maybe because it is sometimes healthy to not remember horrible anniversaries.  But throughout the day it was mentioned by Andy, and Mom, and I had some reflective moments of sadness.

I can't help but think of Rebecca's Aunt Ellie.  Who lived in the neighborhood and saw people die right before her eyes.  I can't help but think of the countless stories that were shared over the weeks and months after September 11th.  Indeed, a sad, sad time.

And of course our conversations led to discussions of the radical Christian leader down in Florida who wanted to have a Koran burning party.  We also discussed the Islamic Community Center (or some people would call it a Mosque) that has plans to be built a few blocks from Ground Zero.  I for one feel like it would be like putting a JCC or a YMCA there.  Maybe it could open up people's minds about Muslims.  I just hope that if this community center is built where it is planned, that it can be viewed as a peaceful place that brings people together.

I am From

In a class last summer, I was given an assignment to write an "I am from" poem.  Inspired by George Ella Lyon.  Her website listed below has a recording of her reciting her poem.  I love it.

http://www.georgeellalyon.com/where.html

I have written and re-written this poem several times.  Here is the latest version:

I Am From

by Molly Doolittle Perkins

I am from a home filled with antiques,

and silly country geese,

from Maple Avenue,

and summers on the shore,

I am from the sweet smell of applesauce,

jumping through piles of leaves,

a rusty swing set, where dolls’ clothes hung on a line,

Beaudog’s “string”

and blue flowers carpeting the lawn in spring,

I am from Mable, Mable, keep your elbows off the table,

and “We’ll see”,

and “Don’t Slam The Door!”

from good night tuck ins

and morning groans,

from dogs’ barks,

and Dad’s snores,

and Mom talking on the phone,

I am from swim lessons,

sun burn,

and pulling up lobster pots,

from salty air,

to tangled hair,

and dinners of shortcake,

I am from picnics on a blanket,

and warm cream of wheat,

snow women on the lawn,

and always a tasty treat,

I am from colorguard and band geeks

from crisp fall days

marching to the beat,

I am from UVM

from Rolling Rock to Labatt Blue,

Dad swears I came back a liberal,

I’m from Simmons

and Children’s lit,

I’m from an acupuncture tester

to regular client

From Sandborn Ave

to one of the girls of 46A

I am from Line Street

with ice man neighbors

and deli guys in the “back yard”

I’m from Dunning in the “Ham”,

and Katherine Lee Bates

from third grade to fourth grade,

and now up to fifth.

I’m from Marathons

and fundraisers,

and Go Liver!

I am from cross country road trips

to rafting the Colorado,

to the Viking museum in Norway.

I am from rocket rooms

and robots

to flying kites

from playing pool at diesel

to running Crossroads.

I’m from pizza night,

and Harpoon,

from friends,

to love

to Hinterkins

I am from adventure.

I am from places of love.

So everyone seems to be doing this blog thing...

So I figured I'd give it a try.  There are some words in life that want to be read.  Some just need to be written. Some should be shared. As a teacher, I am constantly sharing stories with my students to help inspire them to become writers.   I might share some of my writing on this blog, maybe some stories, or poems.   I may use this as a place to just make a comment on life or society in general.  Maybe not.  Who knows what the future holds.