A writer friend asked me the other day who my childhood role models were. She had a hunch I had some.
My friend got married young, had kids and settled into domesticity around the time I was packing my bags, saying good-bye to my familiar Midwestern upbringing, and heading off to New York City to seek my fortune in the publishing world.
A satisfying career ensued — and thirteen years later I was a married woman with a house and hopes for motherhood. Where did I get the spunk and drive to make such a life for myself, she wondered. I must have had what today is called a role model.
My friend’s hunch was right. When I took a look up and down my family tree I saw female role models all over the place.
On my mother’s side: My Aunt Dickie, the librarian. My grandmother Toto, the upscale department store saleslady. My great-grandmother Nana, the proprietor of a Lake Michigan resort.
On my father’s side: My Aunt Fern, the art teacher. My Aunt Ruth, the bank vice president. My Grandma Falconer, the farm wife. My Great-Grandmother Loomis, the schoolteacher and president of the local Women’s Christian Temperance Union.
Those women were powerful role models for me as a young woman just getting started in life. They were enterprising, successful, responsible, all the things I wanted to be back then.
But as the years went by, the young, adventuresome me became the settled, middle-aged me, who in time became today’s 80-something me.
And that’s where my Aunt Grace steps in as the family role model.
In her younger years, my Aunt Grace owned and ran two dress shops in central Michigan. She made frequent buying trips to Manhattan’s garment district. In my eyes, she was a woman of the world, and I learned a lot from her over the years.
But some of the best advice I got from my Aunt Grace didn’t come until she was 98 years old. I recorded some of those tips in a post on this site in 2013, not long after she died — “How to Be a Glamorous Gal at Age 98.”
My aunt was a successful businesswoman. But she also had thoughts on how to be a sexy lady — or gal, as she would put it — at any age.
Things like — get rid of those housewifey aprons with the rumply bibs, she said. They cover up one of a gal’s finest assets – her bust line. Read more.
