8th grade, 1968, new state, new school, girls were not allowed to wear pants to school. I pleasantly and determinedly created a petition to request that girls be allowed to wear pants to school. I got enough signatures, it worked, we were allowed to wear pants.
Mr. Brenner, my English teacher, said “Mary, you are a rabblerouser!” I had to look up the word in the dictionary. An old fashioned one, with alphabetical listings, remember those? When I found out that the word describes itself, one who rouses the rabble, I blushed with flustered….shame! embarrassment! horror!
What I wondered then, and I still wonder now, this many years later, is why do Rabblerousers have a name if not to imply that there is something wrong – or annoying – or dangerous – about them?
And yes I am still rousing the rabble. Nothing huge, but yeah I still do.
We had to wear school uniforms. Our rabblerousing was wearing chukka boots with our grey plaid skirts! Oooooh, we were bad.
how funny is that?!! oooo you bad girl you!
Well, at least you didn’t burn your bra. Or maybe you did? (Sorry if I spoiled your next post).
ha! had no bra to burn, how’s that?!
Thoroughly enjoyable !
yes! thx!
aloha Mary – i think we can rename ourself. maybe we can become calmrousers. or smilerousers. or joyrousers. or laughterrousers. i’m not starting a petition, mind you. i’ve just found it’s okay to do things the way i want to do them sometimes. most of the time. and words are fun. and names are fun too. aloha.
aloha rick – i like your re-naming. and i like your approach to life, that it’s okay to do things the way you want to do them sometimes. not so sure that would make a blog post! have you blogged about that idea? maybe it would, actually.
thanks for stopping by, aloha.