FRANCES

This is a story about two women named Frances.

My mother’s oldest sister, Aunt Frannie, and husband, Uncle Hookie, loved me like a grandchild in place of Mom’s parents who had died. The short woman with graying, brown hair and the tall, bald-headed man seemed old to me.

Aunt Frannie, who struggled with arthritis, always wore a housedress protected by an apron. She sewed her own clothes, made garments for her two daughters and, occasionally, stitched up something for me. She also sewed for outsiders to augment the income from their small farm. She had a saying for every situation. My favorite was, “If you burn your ass, you sit on the blister.”

Tomorrow, August 27, was her birthday. I wish I’d realized sooner that she turned twenty-one in 1920, the year the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution gave women the right to vote. I would have liked to ask her about it.

My aunt’s namesake, our middle child, Lisa Frances, turned twenty-one in the eighties and became one of the first female Illinois State Troopers. When Lisa retired eight years ago, she was a master sergeant. She’s single, owns her home and works out at a fitness center. She rarely wears a dress–pants are more her style. She has ridden a motorcycle since she was a teenager. I think of our daughter as young, but she’s the same age Aunt Frannie was when she passed away four months after Ken and I were married.

Two women who share the name Frances illustrate how times changed. Once in a while, I believe it’s a good idea to stop and look at how far females have come.

What do you think a woman’s status in the world is today?