Beltane Emergence Moon
Kate and I drove on a blue highway, Minnesota Highway #10, from near our home here in Andover to Detroit Lakes, then, after the wedding turned around and drove back. Along the way, when I mentioned my driving “to get there a little faster,” Kate surprised me by saying, “Well, I’ve only recently been allowed to drive when we’re together.”
Allowed? This stubborn Norwegian woman, whose eyes have seen far ahead all of her life, further than life could take her, most of the time, felt the need to be allowed? That set me back and I knew it was true. As she’d pointed out a couple of years ago, I always drove. Never any question about it. And, as with most deep seated discriminatory impulses, her driving had never crossed my mind.
She drove to Denver a couple of years ago and reported that her back felt much better than when she rode. I said, “Well, you should drive then.” Guess that’s when she was allowed. This is not an easy thing for me to admit, since I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to eliminate discrimination, especially sexism and racism, in the institutions in which I’ve worked and the communities in which I’ve lived. But there it was, staring back at me from the driver’s seat.
I’ve gotten use to the passenger’s seat over the last year and a half or so. It was a transition and one I’m glad I’ve made. I can see more, enjoy the trips more. Shows you what you miss when you drive with blinders on.
