Propaganda Saved Me

It was the 1940's and little did I know everything I had come to know and be accustomed to would change forever. It's as if my life isn't my life any longer. I'm living a dream, but not a dream I could have dreamt up on my own. No, it was coerced out of me. It was planned, though not by me. It was placed there in my mind by someone or something unforeseen as easily as I place my hand on a faucet to turn on the water. The war was in full swing and women, just like me, were going to work. Women doing a man's job as our men face every day of the war as it could be their last. So often during the depression we heard the workplace is no place for a woman. The home was where we belonged; taking care of our homes and the children. Men didn't want us taking their jobs when there were so few and they were better suited for those positions anyway. After this being drilled into our minds, why would I want to begin a new life as an employee?

Ralph was in the Army Air Forces. He always had a love for airplanes and flight. I admired his admiration of the skies and respected his place in the war efforts. We had been married for a short five years, long enough to have two children together, when he came home with the news he would be leaving to fight in the war. It has only been a couple of months now yet I can hardly remember what it was like to have him here every day. There are times I sense that Lois and Lester miss their father, but we manage on our own just fine.

My best friend Betty phoned earlier and said she would be by later to allow the children some play time. As luck would have it, Florence, 4, and Robert, 2, were the same ages as my Lois and Lester. Some days I felt these play dates we arrange for the children are just as much for them as it is for us. It's not easy being alone all the time, but it's not as difficult as one would think either. We have our good days and our bad. As long as there is a tomorrow we have the ability to let the bad fade away as a distant memory.

Betty arrived at three o'clock on the dot. Thankfully I could always depend on her punctuality so I had the muffins and tea ready right on time. Gossiping while we snack in the living room and the children play a mere 3-5 feet away from us had become a weekly ritual I could no longer imagine life without. Just when I think I'm settling into a new routine as I adjust to the changes life has thrown at me Betty drops a bomb on me. "I think I'm going to start work down at the factory." She said.

I'm stunned. No, I'm angrily surprised. Not only have I lost the ability to be with my husband because of this war, but I'm now losing my best friend too. My children are losing their friends as well. "Why on Earth would you do such a thing?" I retort.

Betty looks just as surprised at my response as I was to hear she was going to work. "I think it's the least I can do to support our country in a time like this." She replied with such admirable grace.

"I understand the need to feel as if we are contributing," I said, "but don't you think we have done enough by giving our husbands to the cause?"

Betty stated her case clearly and I couldn't fault her for her thoughts and feelings in the matter. She did make some valid points. She also pointed out that though she will be working she will still be close and I'm not losing my friend like I have my husband. Still I couldn't help but wonder what do we know about working? We are housewives who specialize in mending, cooking, and cleaning.

The following day, while at the supermarket, my eyes are drawn to a poster. This is not any ordinary poster or advertisement. No, this poster so obviously painted by Norman Rockwell depicts a woman who must be on a lunch break as she is holding a sandwich and a lunch box with the name Rosie scribbled across it. Her attire oozes patriotism. She is wearing aviator goggles, she has some sort of tool across her lap, and her foot is appropriately placed a top Hitler's book, "Mein Kompf". Her stance and expression is that of a strong, proud woman supporting her country. I can't stop myself from staring at it. Emotions inside me whirl from one feeling to the next sending me soaring with pride. Women are stepping up. It takes more than a man to run this country and we are doing it. I realize I've been staring at this poster for several minutes analyzing every little detail of its meaning when I decide I must get my shopping done to get home and cook dinner.

Listening to the radio while I cook dinner has always been a favorite way of mine to relax. To my surprise, a song comes on the radio about the poster I saw in the super market today, "Rosie the Riveter" is the name. They sang about Rosie being a part of the assembly line and how she is making history. They sang about how Rosie is proud to work and keep an eye out for sabotage. It is a wonderful song. For the second time today I feel proud to be an American and thankful women are a big part of it all. It's clear to me. I want to be a pilot, not a passenger. I don't know why I ever questioned it before. I must go to work and do what I can. I must contribute. This is my country too. I'm proud to be an American and it's up to all of us to stand up for the red, white, and blue.