Weekend Reading on Women's Representation December 20, 2019

By Cynthia Richie Terrell on December 20, 2019

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(Students from the Capital City Public Charter School)

Dear all,
This has been a big week of news from Capitol Hill but I am going to steer clear of that topic as I suspect there is a variety of opinion on the matter among all of you interesting, passionate, and committed people!
I will report though, that we hosted students this morning from the Capital City Public Charter School who chose RepresentWomen as the recipient of their decorated-by-hand cookies. We had a lively exchange about the need for airports named for women, the rank of the United States among nations for women's representation, voting at 16, and the number of women in office. It was a total joy to listen to their answers to my many questions - I felt almost like Scrooge at the end of the Christmas Carol when he is so enthusiastic to find he is alive after a night of ghostly visitations that he almost overwhelms the young boy he commissions to help him buy gifts for others! I can't think of a better motivation for the work we all do than these children. I hope that you can feel the power of their potential that I experienced today.

 

I have been doing my own baking (including my dear aunt's recipe that calls for 10 sticks of butter) and knitting here and there - though I wish I had more time for both!

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The RepresentWomen team was very busy this week delivering our 2020 Calendars to offices in downtown DC and packaging up hundreds for the mail. If you'd like one please let us know using this form and use this link to make a donation to cover the shipping - and maybe even a few extra dollars to support our innovative work to advance women's representation and leadership.

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I hope that you all have a restful break and happy holiday. I am looking forward to finding ways to collaborate with each of you in 2020!
Warmly,
Cynthia
No snow yet here but one can always dream...
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And my favorite passage from The Wind in the Willows when Rat and Mole provide supper to a raucous group of caroling field mice:

There was no more talk of play-acting once the very real and solid contents of the basket had been tumbled out on the table. Under the generalship of Rat, everybody was set to do something or to fetch something. In a very few minutes supper was ready, and Mole, as he took the head of the table in a sort of a dream, saw a lately barren board set thick with savoury comforts; saw his little friends’ faces brighten and beam as they fell to without delay; and then let himself loose—for he was famished indeed—on the provender so magically provided, thinking what a happy home-coming this had turned out, after all. As they ate, they talked of old times, and the field-mice gave him the local gossip up to date, and answered as well as they could the hundred questions he had to ask them. The Rat said little or nothing, only taking care that each guest had what he wanted, and plenty of it, and that Mole had no trouble or anxiety about anything.

They clattered off at last, very grateful and showering wishes of the season, with their jacket pockets stuffed with remembrances for the small brothers and sisters at home. When the door had closed on the last of them and the chink of the lanterns had died away, Mole and Rat kicked the fire up, drew their chairs in, brewed themselves a last nightcap of mulled ale, and discussed the events of the long day. At last the Rat, with a tremendous yawn, said, ‘Mole, old chap, I’m ready to drop. Sleepy is simply not the word. That your own bunk over on that side? Very well, then, I’ll take this. What a ripping little house this is! Everything so handy!’

He clambered into his bunk and rolled himself well up in the blankets, and slumber gathered him forthwith, as a swathe of barley is folded into the arms of the reaping machine.

The weary Mole also was glad to turn in without delay, and soon had his head on his pillow, in great joy and contentment. But ere he closed his eyes he let them wander round his old room, mellow in the glow of the firelight that played or rested on familiar and friendly things which had long been unconsciously a part of him, and now smilingly received him back, without rancour. He was now in just the frame of mind that the tactful Rat had quietly worked to bring about in him. He saw clearly how plain and simple—how narrow, even—it all was; but clearly, too, how much it all meant to him, and the special value of some such anchorage in one’s existence. He did not at all want to abandon the new life and its splendid spaces, to turn his back on sun and air and all they offered him and creep home and stay there; the upper world was all too strong, it called to him still, even down there, and he knew he must return to the larger stage. But it was good to think he had this to come back to; this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted upon for the same simple welcome.