The Minute You Think You Want to Stop: Stop Thinking

By Helen N. Harris, resident at Wesley Palms Retirement Community

LET ME APOLOGIZE for dictating this story for you instead of writing it myself. A few years ago, when I was in my late 80s, I got run over on a ski slope by an out-of-control snowboarder. The injury to my right hand still impedes me from writing. But the story is the same however it is conveyed. 

When I was a school girl my first choice was to become a doctor, but the chances of being accepted into medical school was not possible for a girl born in 1922 who was not the daughter of a doctor. Math was easy for me, so it is hardly surprising that I gravitated in the direction of engineering. That was not a destination without obstacles, but it is one I am very glad I pursued.

I grew up in Massachusetts where both my father and my mother had emigrated from Poland. They met and married in the USA and had three children. I was the only girl, and the youngest, with two older brothers. As seems to have been the pattern of that era my Dad worked in the shipyards in Quincy during World War I, and later in Lawrence, Mass, and my mother worked as a weaver in the mills. They worked hard to make sure their children would have easier lives than they had experienced. They made certain that my two brothers were college graduates, but my father was unconvinced that a girl needed a higher education. That did not deter me from following my own course. Don't misunderstand, he never stood in my path. It was just that he didn't feel that education was as important for a girl as it was for his boys.

After graduating from the University of Massachusetts I was awarded a scholarship to participate in an Aeronautical Engineering study project at the Uptown Campus of New York University which was all-male. About twenty of those chosen for this program in the early days of World War II were women. We were segregated in separate classes from the men. We were not permitted in the laboratories. It was only after the men had graduated and left the campus that we were allowed to enter the lab and see the actual aircraft engine we had previously only viewed in photos in books.

After completing this course of study I was employed by Chance Vought Aircraft in Stratford, Connecticut, just across the Sound from New York. Apparently for security reasons a decision was made to move such facilities from the New York area. Since Texas-financiers owned a major portion of Chance Vought, the company was relocated in Grand Prairie near Dallas. Next I was recruited by General Dynamics in San Diego, where I spent the rest of my career.
 
Over the years women were gradually more accepted in the profession, and a female engineer is not such a curiosity, but those of us who pioneered in this field never had it easy. Nevertheless, I always enjoyed working with men. With men you could face off in serious arguments about the right way to approach a problem, and then quickly put all the disagreement behind and work together harmoniously. I found women with less education had more of a tendency to hold grudges. That would not be true today.

I also found, for many years, that I had a hard time getting an office stenographer to type up my reports. There seemed to be a quiet resentment about my position and a sense that, as a woman, I should be typing my own reports. None of the above, however, justifies the way women have been denied opportunity to follow their dreams and prove their abilities to achieve. 

My husband and I were both avid skiers. He was more skilled at the art than I, but his excellence spurred me on to get better year by year. I skied my entire adult life, becoming a master racer. That has somewhat been the story of my life. I gave up skiing after I broke my T-12 vertebra and was not permitted to have surgery for a right hip because I was over ninety years of age.

Never give up. Always persevere. Stay the course whatever the obstacles. Never let a challenge go unanswered. If there is any message I would like to leave to the generations that follow, that would be it. Keep smiling, and follow you dream.



The Minute You Think You Want to Stop: Stop Thinking is an excerpt from Aging As An Art Form: Through the Eyes Of Residents of Wesley Palms by Wesley Palms resident Don McEvoy. The book contains 50 stories, experiences and life lessons either self-written or told to Don through interviews.

Don McEvoy is storyteller, former pastor and civil rights activist. Aging as an Art Form is available from Outskirts Press and Amazon.com. Proceeds from the book benefit the residents of Wesley Palms.

Love, Laugh, Pray

By Bea Rogers, resident at Wesley Palms Retirement Community


THOSE THREE WORDS are one of the signs I have posted on the door of my suite here at Wesley Palms. Laugh, Love and Pray. That pretty well sums up my philosophy of life.

The other sign on my door is a note to God, telling Him that I am ready, but in no hurry. I celebrated my 99th birthday last month, but am in no rush to move on quite yet.

I grew up out in the country in Orange County, California in an area that later became Disneyland. Those were the years of the Great Depression. We were poor, but never went hungry. The chickens in the coop outback and a garden provided our basic needs. We wore uniforms to school, so I never had to worry about whether my dresses were as good as those of the other girls.

My favorite teacher, the one who had the greatest influence on me, taught music. More importantly she taught Life. I had the role of Yum Yum in our school production of The Mikado, and leads in several other shows. She was such a meaningful person that for many years twelve of us, three boys and their wives and three girls and their husbands, held an annual reunion with her, until she died.

I always loved to sing. In church, in school, everywhere. In later life I have often wondered why women seem to lose their voices, but men never do. Just look at the choir in almost any church and you will see young women and old men. It just doesn't seem fair.

But I am not complaining. I don't do that. I never did. Well, maybe I did once. In high school I worked in the cafeteria during the lunch hour. I was paid 15 cents a day and had no lunch. That was my spending money. But the boys who washed the dishes were paid 25 cents and given a free lunch. That was not fair, and I took the matter to our supervisor. His answer was: "But you are a girl." I told him that girls get hungry, too, but he didn't budge. Maybe I was a pioneer in the women's movement and just didn't know it at the time

Later I became a very successful business woman. A friend and I, who worked together in a dress shop in San Diego's North Park area, decided to go out on our own and start our own shop. Older, wiser, and more experienced people told us we simply did not have sufficient resources to begin a business, that we would surely fail, and lose what little we did have. We chose to ignore that advice. We struggled for a while, but we persevered. At least, I did.

My business partner stayed as long as she could and then announced her intention to "marry money" and left it all to me. A change of location to a rapidly developing area of the city brought success.

One era, when women's skirts were extremely short, I struggled every Sunday to keep my knees covered at church. Capris solved that problem for me. I guessed, correctly, that other women were having the same problem. My shop began to specialize in Capris and capitalized on that fashion trend.

I was married to a wonderful man for nearly 70 years. On our wedding day my father poked a finger in my chest and said, "I give this marriage two weeks." Every anniversary thereafter my husband would tell me, "Honey, your two weeks are almost up."

When I was in high school I told my mother, "If you will give me my freedom, I promise I will never do anything to embarrass you." Later, as a mother, I tried to be the freedom-giving and trusting person I had asked her to be. Raising a daughter was easy, an absolute delight. A son? What did I know about boys? But it turned out well. He is a wonderful man. My only advice to parents is: Love them. Just love them.

I can honestly say that I have never disliked anyone. I have thought about this a lot recently when considering what I wanted to say today, and I can confidently repeat it. I never disliked anyone.

And, I don't know how anyone could make it without God.
Love, Laugh, Pray is an excerpt from Aging As An Art Form: Through the Eyes Of Residents of Wesley Palms by Wesley Palms resident Don McEvoy. The book contains 50 stories, experiences and life lessons either self-written or told to Don through interviews.

Don McEvoy is storyteller, former pastor and civil rights activist. Aging as an Art Form is available from Outskirts Press and Amazon.com. Proceeds from the book benefit the residents of Wesley Palms.