Monday, September 23, 2013


It's been over a month since I posted, and for that I am sorry.  Here's the thing:  I've found it very difficult to be a good "housewife" when my husband lives 2000 miles away.  What's the point of cooking for only myself?  What kind of cleaning tips do I need when I don't really have many messes to clean?  I may have to put this blog on hiatus for a while until he gets back.

It really makes me wonder, though - what did women like me do in the 1950's?  I doubt job opportunities were so globalized that many women found themselves thousands of miles from their husbands for long periods of time, but what about unmarried women?  All of my books and articles about how to be a "good woman" in the 1950's focus on how to be a good wife and how to be a good mother.  I admit: with Rex gone I feel as though I've lost a bit of my identity.  I took a lot of pride in continually bettering myself as a wife.  That seems to be the predominant attitude in most of the mid-twentieth century literature I've come across too: a woman is defined by how well she serves her man.  So.....what if a woman didn't find a husband?  What if she didn't have kids?  Then what?

I've done a little bit of research into this (because what else am I supposed to write about right now?), and it seems that single women in the 1950's were seen as second-class citizens.  Plenty of articles and books were written about how to find a husband, and singleness was seen as a disease to be cured.  I'm sorry - I know this is going to sound awfully feminist of me - but isn't that sad?  Your life doesn't start till you get married?  What if you don't find the right guy?  What if your husband dies?  You're not worth anything unless you're a wife and mother?  No me gusta.

So anyway, I've found a fatal flaw in my plan to live as my fifties foremothers.  No husband = no life.  I'll still try to update occasionally, but I don't have much to write about until Rex gets back because fifties women didn't have much to do except sit around and wait on their husbands.  Bummer.