Legacy and the Women's Restroom - First in an occasional series on "Legacy"

Recently I brought my new Intern into the women’s restroom with me.  Even though she had not been with me for long, I immediately liked her and quickly grew to trust her.  So I decided that I would pass on to her something that not many at the Found know.  I showed her how to change the toilet paper roll.  I informed her that I could now rest knowing that if something were to happen to me, this vital information will not die with me.

            This makes me think about legacy.  In the 65 year history of the Baptist Student Foundation at Purdue I am the third Pastor/Director.  The first one built the building and the sanctuary is named for him.  The second one acquired more property and built a significant endowment fund and the kitchen and café area is named after him.  I have a funny feeling that it would be a tossup as to whether to name the boiler room or the women’s restroom after me.  

            Not long after I got to the Found I went into the restroom after Bible study.  It was after 10 pm.  I found that we had a new water feature that I was not aware had been added.  It’s not what you are thinking.  We had a waterfall coming down the inside wall opposite the stalls.  It was coming through the roof.  The roof is shaped in a V (the result of the drug culture of the early sixties impacting the architect community – but I digress).  That night the snow that had gathered in the bottom-of-the-V spot began to melt too quickly, as we had had an unusually warm day.  That was the beginning of a few years of trying to figure out the quick fixes to our roof problem, to avoid the excitement of going to the restroom in the rain.  Finally we got a new roof and for the most part have not had waterfalls in the bathroom or elsewhere. 

I didn’t know what a boiler room was until I got to the Found.  I was from L.A. and had never met a boiler (at least not knowingly).  My predecessor taught me how to turn it on in the late fall when the temperature stopped going up into the 60’s each day, and how to turn it off in the spring when it seemed like the temperature was done dipping down to near freezing.  It was a matter of flipping two switches on a box on the wall just within my reach.  I developed a kind of liturgy for turning on the boiler for the year.  I would make the determination that it was time to turn on the boiler, usually after noticing that people were keeping their coats on during worship on Sunday morning.  I would pray as I walked down the stair to the boiler room and turned on the light.  I would look at the nearly 60-year-old machine with respect and fear.  I would read the directions on the switch box, a couple of times, just in case there was new information added since the last time that I had engaged in the ritual.  Finally, I would take a deep breath and hold it, stand in the doorway and reach over and flip the two switches in their proper order.  Then I would quickly move out of the door and behind the wall listening for the whoosh of the pilot lighting and turning on the boiler, praying, of course, that it would not blow up the building.  Turning the boiler off in the spring was not as traumatic.  Then it was a matter of deciding that the weather was not going to turn cold again at some point in late April.

            A few years ago the boiler started going out.  We would get it started again, but it became clear that we needed a new one.  So we gathered the troops and, due to the generosity of many people we gathered enough money to buy a car or two and put it toward the big, ugly, messy, expensive job of replacing the old “Darth Boiler.”

So as I think about legacy, well, what will people remember of the “Zambrows Years” at the Found?  I guess if you really think about it, as unglamorous as these rooms are they are really important.  On a 10 degree day you want the boiler to be working.  And, well, no matter the temperature, you always want a functioning women’s (and men’s) restroom. 

And, though there is a lot more to say about legacy, at least for now I can rest easy knowing that there is at least one other person who knows how to change the toilet paper roll.

Fashion Update… and the Unexpected Benefit

I don’t need to buy fashion magazines to find out the latest.  I have been on a college campus for more than 30 years.  If I want to find out the latest in women’s fashions all I have to do is look around. 

                The first three weekends of the school year is when the sororities at our campus hold “rush.”  During these weekends young women and sororities court (my word) one another until the right girl finds the right sorority and vise verse.  This is where I get my information about the latest fashion trends.  There was the year of the white sun dress, the year of the floral sun dress, the year of the strait, short skirt and the year of the full, short skirt, the strapless year and the halter year, and the year of the black dress… though, really, does the little black dress ever go out of style?

                So this year is that of the uneven hem.  Some of these dresses are subtle, with it being just a little shorter in the front than the back.   But some of them are more dramatic being a mini in the front and a maxi in the back (okay, I know, that really dates me, doesn’t it).  Some of the hemlines are symmetrical in that the shortest part of the skirt is in the middle of the front and the longest in the middle of the back.  But some are not symmetrical. 

                Don’t get me wrong, I think many of these dresses and skirts are really cute, though I haven’t rushed out to buy my own.  But I have thought of one unexpected benefit of this latest in fashion.... 

               Now is a great time to learn how to sew!   

              Just imagine how nice it would be to not worry about getting the hemline even all the way around the skirt.  If the person wanting to learn how to sew would just get started right now, they would be able to get some real practice in hemming a skirt before the trend goes back to being even all the way around!  So, if you have been thinking about learning how to sew, or even if you haven't, hurry up!  This is the time to

get started!

The Road Trip...Alone

One of my kids is riding his bicycle around the country to raise awareness about the issue of human trafficking.  He left 3 month ago and he has at least another month to go.  Most days he has been alone on his bicycle.  Many of those days he has ridden as much as 150 miles in the middle of nowhere with a loaded down bike, a cell phone and a GPS.  He has depended on the hospitality of people he has never met before, mostly church folk, who have put him up in their homes or in a nearby motel and fed him a couple of meals.  There is so much to this story… but this is about me.

At one point in his trip my husband and I met him.  We all attended our denomination’s national convention.  I normally go to this without my family.  I see my friends.  People know me for what I do.  This time was different.  I was my kid’s mom.   “That kid (ok, he’s 26) who is hanging out in the exhibit hall, talking with people about his mission, yeah, I’m his mom.”  That was a first, but not the only "first" on that trip.

After the convention my husband decided to ride for a week with our son.  We brought a tandem which they took and it was my job to drive home from Kansas City, KS, to our home with the bike that my son had been using and would continue to use after the stint with his dad was done.  The "first:"  I had never traveled that distance alone by car before.   My kid is riding his bike all over the country all by himself and I, in my mid-50s, had never driven 530 miles/9 hours alone in a car before.  

 I decided to split the trip up and maybe even do some sight-seeing along the way.  When I woke up the morning that I was to leave, I looked at the weather map and realized that my original route was going to lead me through thunder and lightning storms.  I don’t like lightning.  And the idea of driving in the flat prairie lands with a lightning rod on the top of my car (ok it was a bike, but same difference when it comes to lightning) multiplied the stress that I was already experiencing with the milestone of my lonely road trip.  I took a different route which brought me  to St. Charles, the first capitol of Missouri, where I decided to stop for the night.

Being the end of June, there was still about 3 hours of light left in the day when I arrived at the motel-with-the-roof-of-a-certain-color.  I checked in and went into my room to get settled and figure out what I wanted to do that night.  It was too late to go shopping in the cute historic downtown by the river, but I thought I could go exploring and find some unique place to eat dinner before settling down for the night in my room.  After looking at maps and brochures I figured out where to go and opened my motel room door to find three police cars with the corresponding number of police officers in the parking lot right outside of my door.  Ok, I didn’t think to worry about something like this!  I went back in my room and shut my door and took to spying out of my window.  Eventually, having heard no screams or anything worse, and noting that the police officers nearest my room were not pulling out their guns, I decided to bravely work my way to my car.  I got in and started my exploration.  I drove around and found all the places that I wanted to check out the next day.  Chickening out in regard to the unique place to eat dinner, I decided to go back to the room and eat the half sandwich left over from lunch, but first drove through Steak-n-Shake for a chocolate shake. 

When I got to back to the motel I wondered about the bicycle securely attached to the top of my car.  Would it be safe?  After all, we had already had "police action" in broad daylight.  Who knows what could happen in the middle of the night!  Now, I was sure that I could not get that bike down by myself.  I could go into the office and see if they would help me.  But then I would need to find someone to help me put it back up on the car the next morning.  I couldn’t find a place to park by my room.   I finally decided to park in the spot right outside the office where the person working the desk could watch it out of their window.  I went to my room, occasionally looking out my door, down the exterior hallway to my car.  Yes, the bike was still there.  Periodically during the night I prayed that the bike would be there the next morning.  It was.

After a nice walk around the still closed historic downtown, I found some coffee and began the rest of my trip home.  I learned all about President James Garfield thanks to be book on CD, and I made it home, all by myself, without incident.  My daughter got the bike off the roof of the car without my help and I could chalk up another first in my life. 

It's Only Eating!

                This morning I heard a story on the radio about a man who by studying teeth has been able to tell how long a Neanderthal was breastfed by mother-Neanderthal.  As interesting as this is, the real question is whether or not mother-Neanderthal was allowed to breastfeed her baby-Neanderthal in the mall.

                I am continually amazed at the commotion about breastfeeding in public!  Really?!?  It is the most natural thing that there is – ask any baby who does it.  It is just eating, folks, that’s all!  I find grown adults eating a greasy hamburger with one hand and a clump of salty French fries with the other and a mega-size diet coke with the other in the mall food court far more disgusting than a woman breastfeeding her baby on a bench next to the Gap.  What is not natural is for a woman who is fully equipped, experiencing let down when she hears her baby cry, fumbling around trying to find a bottle in the diaper bag to feed her baby.  Or having to go to the bathroom to nurse the baby, all because someone gets upset that her breast is not firmly in her bra cup and instead is in her baby’s mouth.  Remember, it’s eating, that’s all!  Would you want to eat in the bathroom at the Mall?  Actually, I found the Nordstrom bathroom a nice place to nurse my babies.  They had a wonderful, gently lit anteroom with a comfortable rocker, away from the hustle and bustle of the Mall.  I am sure that they put it in for the comfort of the mother and baby as opposed to the comfort of the one who is being offended by the woman FEEDING her baby in the way that God intended.  But even in the restrooms that are regularly cleaned, I don’t want to bring my mocha frappe, let alone eat a meal.  Why would I want to feed a little baby in there?

                When this subject comes up I am usually just really annoyed.  But if I think about it long enough, I become greatly offended.  Think about it.  It is the ultimate in objectifying a woman.  As Julia Roberts once said, “They’re only breasts!”  Okay, that may be a bad example as she was in bed with Hugh Grant at the time.  Thinking of breastfeeding in public as “indecent” is offensive.  I did it all the time, and probably most people didn’t know I was doing it.  I even did it in church!  (Not ever in the pulpit.  Now that would have been distracting – mostly for ME).  But even if a little skin shows while the process goes on, what is the big deal.  The walls of Abercrombie have pictures of bigger than life people who are practically naked!  (Which always intrigues me that they are trying to sell you clothes and they do it with pictures of naked people.  Maybe they are trying to coax the naked people to buy clothes?? …but I digress.) 

A breast has more functions than sexual arousal of people!  When we can only think of breasts sexually, we are on our way to thinking of women in a strictly sexual sense.  When we do that we limit the spheres where a woman can go.  We do that so that she can’t possibly arouse a man (who can go wherever and do whatever he chooses).  You think I am over-reacting.  Maybe I am.  But it was not that long ago in our own history when it was improper for a woman to show her calf in public (and I am not talking about an activity at the state fair).  It is not that far away that women are required to cover their entire body, except for their eyes and go out in public only when escorted by a male relative.   (There are still Christian versions of this dynamic as well).

Okay, you’re asking how I got from breastfeeding in the mall to burkas and beyond (that could be a name for…never mind).  It’s just that we have come a long way, (baby).  I was able to breastfeed in public more than 20 years ago.  I never fed my babies with a bottle (others did, when I was not around).   If I tried, my baby would look up at me and give me the, “You can do better than that” look.  Women before me fought long and hard so that I could have many freedoms including breastfeeding my baby in peace…or in the mall. 

So, let the poor, sleep-deprived woman FEED her baby in peace.  If it bothers you, just go buy a hamburger or go window shopping at Abercrombie.  Remember, it’s just eating.