| Author: | Carole McCall | ISBN: | 9781909421578 |
| Publisher: | Arena Books | Publication: | May 5, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Arena Books | Language: | English |
| Author: | Carole McCall |
| ISBN: | 9781909421578 |
| Publisher: | Arena Books |
| Publication: | May 5, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Arena Books |
| Language: | English |
The Baby Boomer Generation had everything including freedom, music, power and enough excitement to power a fleet of rocket ships. Easy access to the professions, inexpensive housing and a voice to be heard came with the territory.
That sense of eternal sunshine that made everything glow and gleam, seemed like an everlasting reality. We did not think twice as we chased the mirage of unattainable possibility.
There was a certain kind of post war woman that was raised in the suffocating fifties fairyland and in a society that told her there was absolutely only one man in the world for her. A handsome, reliable and responsible man was going to love her forever in a beautiful cottage with roses around the door.
This woman was a teenager in the sixties who could not believe her luck at being invited to this vibrant life party: where everybody danced in miniskirts all night long to the beat of music nobody had ever heard before.
She was a young mother in the seventies who lived the vegetable growing, bread making good life and then rushed back to work because she had read about feminism and that philosophy turned the dial on her fuzzy self-image and made it clear and sharp.
She was a loving but determined parent and conscientious employee in the eighties. She was an excellent hostess for her husband when he needed her and a part of every parent teacher association and school governing body that would have her.
Did I also mention that she was slender and glamorous with a beautiful garden and always wore perfume?
Her name was Gullible; her name was Me……
The Baby Boomer Generation had everything including freedom, music, power and enough excitement to power a fleet of rocket ships. Easy access to the professions, inexpensive housing and a voice to be heard came with the territory.
That sense of eternal sunshine that made everything glow and gleam, seemed like an everlasting reality. We did not think twice as we chased the mirage of unattainable possibility.
There was a certain kind of post war woman that was raised in the suffocating fifties fairyland and in a society that told her there was absolutely only one man in the world for her. A handsome, reliable and responsible man was going to love her forever in a beautiful cottage with roses around the door.
This woman was a teenager in the sixties who could not believe her luck at being invited to this vibrant life party: where everybody danced in miniskirts all night long to the beat of music nobody had ever heard before.
She was a young mother in the seventies who lived the vegetable growing, bread making good life and then rushed back to work because she had read about feminism and that philosophy turned the dial on her fuzzy self-image and made it clear and sharp.
She was a loving but determined parent and conscientious employee in the eighties. She was an excellent hostess for her husband when he needed her and a part of every parent teacher association and school governing body that would have her.
Did I also mention that she was slender and glamorous with a beautiful garden and always wore perfume?
Her name was Gullible; her name was Me……
