Not June Cleaver, but close enough

Abigail Wheetly
Daily Egyptian

As a child, I would watch my mother make my lunches in wonder, as a tuck, fold and a flip of the wrist would form the wax paper impossibly around my sandwich.

Mothers seem naturally good at everything; and, in my memory, my mother is a miracle worker. Though an independent woman, my mother had the time to be perfect in my eyes.

Mothers of the 1950s were not independent, and perfection was a clear expectation. As a role model, women of that era had mysterious and non-existent Betty Crocker to look to.

To have a house that was beautiful and children that were clean was the way in which a woman gained respect.

Since women like my mother have gone to work, there is no real prestige that measures up to what could be achieved with a lovely centerpiece or a gracefully served scone. The woman who had become mother to us all, the ultimate miracle worker of all, Martha Stewart, has been caught and is being punished.

I am no Martha Stewart fan, but when flipping through channels, I would stop for a moment and find comfort in the way she would layer a sandwich so it would be beautiful when cut, or her ability to make wreathes out of silver bells at Christmas time.

These things bring me the same comfort my mother brought by stitching a pocket or making perfect biscuits. It is the comfort in knowing that it is possible.

I watched the E! True Hollywood Story of Martha Stewart and also caught a large part of the made-for-TV movie about her. Her true crimes seem to be that she was an absentee mother and a workaholic.

Now the insider trading charges threaten to bring her to a human place and away from the magical mystique she had achieved. I don't know if she is guilty, and I don't claim to support or oppose her either way. I do know she is the one woman who has been nearly able to recapture the prestige and notoriety of June Cleaver and still remain independent and hard working.

My mother has always worked, and I spent a great deal of time in daycare. She has a good career, and I admire her greatly.

As a woman, I always knew I would work. Every day I drop my children off at their respective care centers, and I feel a pang of guilt.

But when I come home and allow them to see how I butter toast as soon as it comes out of the toaster so it soaks into the bread or how a safety pin or piece of tape can fix most problems, I know I am a woman, I am a mother and I am capable.

Feckless Pondering appears every other Thursday. Abigail is a junior in English. Her views do not necessarily reflect those of the Daily Egyptian.

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