This column is in honor of Erma Bombeck.  Erma was the first person to explain to me the subtle differences between men and women.  Growing up in the 60s and 70s, my concept of men was based on television dads like the kindly Hugh Beaumont (the Beaver’s dad), then like the unflappable Fred MacMurray in My Three Sons and finally like the opinionated Archie Bunker in All in the Family.  Those were my motley role models.

Add to it that my generation was being told “Men were from Mars, the Warrior Planet; and women, Venus, the world of love and romance.   No wonder, I was confused.

And then I discovered Erma Bombeck in the morning newspaper.  She was equally confused about the changing gender roles.  Sometimes, she was mystified about the how June Cleaver (the Beaver’s mom) found time to cleaned her house in white gloves and pearls -  while Erma hid things, so not to have to dust and sweep.  She wasn’t a gloves and pearls kind of lady nor a bra burning woman – uncomfortable in both worlds, striving to create her own – one that she fit in, one that made sense.

She used her column to work out some of the inconsistencies in life, especially the communication conflicts between men and women.  She tried to explain the subtle differences between the sexes, while making it ok for men to be warriors and women, lovers.  Even if I didn’t always understand the differences, she made me laugh.  Erma gave me hope that when I was her age (and as a teen, that seemed impossible) I would understand that there are differences between the sexes and I would laugh about them too.

One of my favorite columns talked about how couples get ready for bed.  In honor of Erma, I’ve up-dated the couples nightly ritual.

My husband rubbed his chin, looked at the cat sleeping peacefully under on his lap, under his lap top and said, “I think it’s time to go to bed.” to whomever was listening.

Agreeing, I started closing down programs on my computer, sending off last minute emails, checking the family’s schedule for tomorrow – our collegiate’s, our high schooler’s, our married daughter (quick check of her blog will tell me where she’ll be tomorrow), my husband (remember to remind about a hair cut) and mine (3 meetings – will need to get up early to prep).

Then it’s a quick trip to the laundry room to either put a load into the dryer or hang up a load to dry.  Before going upstairs, I pick up dirty dishes, clean clothes/towels and anything else that needs to go up.  After climbing the stairs, I put the dishes in the sink, clothes in the upstairs basket and towels in the linen closet.  Then, back to the kitchen to turn on the tea kettle, feed the puppies a quick snack and put them out.  While waiting on them, I remind our teen that it is time to turn off her computer and go to sleep.  I turn off extra lights, the dogs’ music and let the pets in, locking the door and, making sure they have fresh water.  The tea kettle boils just as I tuck the puppy into her kennel.  I make a quick hot drink for my husband and me and carry it downstairs.

After handing the cup to my husband, I feed and water the cats.  On finishing our drinks, I collect the mugs and put them out of the kitties reach.   I, then, turn the bed covers down and start getting ready for bed.

My husband slowly lifts the cat off his lap, puts his laptop aside, rubbing his chin again, he say, “I guess it’s time to go to bed” and I agree.

As a teen, I read two newspaper columns faithfully.  I loved Sydney Harris – the i satirical, political grammarian of his times.  (Think Grammar Girl only old, male and angry).  And, Erma Bombeck.

Why Erma Bombeck?  I could so relate to her.  Being stuck in the middle of the Feminist Revolution, trying to fit into both worlds and not.  That was me, too.  Her mom was perfect.  Stuck in an airport?  Her mom was prepared.  Her father bringing home people for dinner with no notice.  Her mom could handle it.

Erma – well in an airport, she had an apple and a spritz of perfume.  Dinner – well, they could go out.

And on men, her version of Conversation with God was the best.   She asked, “Why did men have big feet?”  So their kids could walk in their footprints in the snow.  Big hands – better to cup small faces and wipe away the tears.  So what if men couldn’t tie a hair ribbon or push a button through a small hole.  They were designed to protect their children.

And most of us have read her article on living life to the full.  A column she wrote when she was in her 50s – years before she found out she was dying.  It talked about, if given a second chance,  all of things she would have done.

This article has had the most profound impact on me.  As any good mom does, I’ve put my life on hold until our girls were grown.  At the same time, I’ve quit saving things for “special occasions” or for later.  There may never be a later.

Erma has taught me “Life is a gift.”  To leave my mark each day – those feminine footprints  in the snow – so that our girls will have a path to follow and not to wait for a special occasion.  It’s more important to create the special occasion or memory than to wait for life to happen.

And one more thing.  Erma died on  Earth Day – April 22, 1996.  Coincidence?