Henrietta Hay's Column

This week is the fifth anniversary of my talking to you once a week here in the Sentinel. I only hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have.

After twenty-five years as a librarian, a job, which I liked, very much, I retired, I thought. Wrong! Now I have had five years doing what I always wanted to do when I grow up - write. It doesn't get much better than that.

Several years ago I spoke to a third grade class. One of the little boys asked me, "How long does it take to write a column?" Answer: a lifetime. That startled him into unaccustomed silence.

Whether you write fiction or biography or history or research or a newspaper column, a lifetime of experiences, education, reading, memories, observation and beliefs goes into it. And all the people around you go into it. I can't imagine writing anything in a vacuum, although Thoreau did it. I have been especially fortunate in having my friend Terry to bounce ideas off of. She knows whether I'm on track or wandering off into space, and can pinpoint the main idea or lack thereof with deadly accuracy. How she can make sense of my first drafts I'll never know. Every writer needs an alter ego and I thank mine.

Rita Mae Brown in her book, Starting from Scratch, has a chapter called Writing is a Moral Act. She says, "All communication rests on inequality. That's the sheer excitement of it. Language is the common thread by which we explore our differences and, if we are both lucky and mature, the thread that will bring us to a form of agreement or at least understanding. Therefore it is imperative that people write and speak the truth."

Many years ago a group of us spent about ten years reading and discussing the Great Books. We kept hunting for a Universal Truth. We never found it. Since truth is relative and our ideas of it change, the best I can do is write the truth as I see it, so at least you won't think I'm a fake.

I wrote one day about the new political buzzword, "family values." It is ridiculous, since no two families have the same values and values, like truth, change even in the same family. If we mean compassion and loyalty and love, let's say so. I wrote of my parents, for whom I have great love and respect, but one of their values was prejudice. In my childhood they considered the few blacks in our town to be somewhat inferior, and they bought into the Protestant/Catholic conflict. That was "truth" in small town America in the twenties. It is not my truth now and probably would not be theirs. The truth that followed me into adulthood was not prejudice, but the love and warmth and laughter that were in our house.

I've written a lot about feminism, or the equality of men and women, because that is my "political truth." We are different biologically, but as a universal rule, one of us is not superior to the other. I wrote once about Molly Yard who was at that time President of NOW. I asked, "What makes Molly run? A lifetime of passionate concern, a lifetime of anger at injustice, a lifetime of willingness to fight for the things she believes in." YES!

As a political person, I have expressed elation when women gained power in the political structure, and indignation when they have been defeated/insulted/fired/kicked around/demeaned/harassed, because the good old boys have not caught on yet. It will come - but will I live long enough to see a woman President? Maybe, but 1995 does not look promising.

Another truth has to do with age. In mythology the Trinity is female: Virgin, Mother, Crone. I wrote, "... women of my age are the logical activists. The Maidens tend to be so starry eyed that they don't know there are problems. The Mothers are busy trying to hold home and children and job together. So it's up to us, the Crones to save the world." We can do it.

Another truth is humor, but it is January, I have a cold, and nothing seems very funny. Besides, reminiscing over five years of columns is very serious business. I look forward with great pleasure to continuing this conversation with you each week.

[In point of fact, at this point, it had been seven years--but who's counting! --DCH]