I was ten years old when Uncle Ed died. His wife, my Aunt Jean, was Grandma Rose’s sister. My grandfather helped Aunt Jean sort out her life and move on after Uncle Ed passed. Grandpa sat at his dining room table, papers strewn everywhere, working on Aunt Jean’s stuff.
Aunt Jean had never written a check. She had no idea how much – or how little – money she had. Uncle Ed had taken care of everything. Grandpa taught my aunt how to write a check and keep track of her checking account. He helped her budget and tried to teach her about her financial situation. The year was 1960.
The picture of Aunt Jean huddled over her papers, a puzzled look on her face, ignorant about finances, that picture became plastered in my mind. I told myself I would be different. I would understand and take care of my own money.
Aunt Jean was a product of her time. I don’t know whether she ever wanted to know about her monetary situation, or was happy letting someone else take care of everything. She managed alone, with my grandfather’s help. She did not become prey to an unscrupulous lawyer, accountant, or family member intent on controlling her and her money.
Decades later a friend faced divorce and did exactly what everyone advised her NOT to do. She trusted her husband. She believed he would be honest and disclose their financial situation. But he owned a business and worked hard at concealing a portion of his assets. The result of her unchallenged faith: her ex led a comfy life post-divorce, while my friend pinched pennies.
I think one reason Aunt Jean was such an anomaly to a ten-year-old was that strong, independent role models surrounded me. Nana, Dad’s mother, became a widow and single mother in her thirties, raised two children, never remarried, and worked until she retired in her 70’s. Grandma Rose assisted in her husband’s – my grandfather’s – store. Aunt Nettie became a nurse, then a hospital administrator. My mother went to college and returned to school when my sister and I were in school. She earned a master’s degree in library science and worked as an elementary school librarian until retirement.
I did not jump into the life of an independent, carefree woman post-college. I married, moved to a semi-rural region of Pennsylvania characterized by a large agricultural community and conservative Christian heritage, and entered the working world. I got a job at a non-profit center for women in transition. Many of the women made the decision to alter their lifestyle on their own, but others were forced into change, usually because of a divorce they did not initiate or the death of a spouse.
I met dozens of Aunt Jeans in my work. The cataclysmic changes rocking the nation took a long time to seep into this Pennsylvania corner of the country.
- I encountered women not allowed to go out at night; they were expected to be home 24/7 to care for husband and children.
- A woman with five kids, determined to leave her abusive husband, was so proud when she saved enough money for her first month’s rent, only to learn she would need an equal sum for a security deposit.
- I met women farmed out to families when 14 or 15 years old who worked as maids, cooks, and mothers’ helpers until they married.
- One motivated client attended GED classes and became the first woman in her family to receive a high school diploma.
When the non-profit lost funding for the women’s program, I worked part-time at a business school as my two boys grew, then full-time for a financial firm. The pursuit of fortune and professional success was not my priority.
I bridged the generations from the Aunt Jeans of the world to the ambitious and independent young women of the 21st century.
The women of my generation were hybrids, born at the end of one lifestyle and the beginning of another. We were too busy living to grasp the historical significance of our time. We simply lived our lives, one step forward, one misstep, one failure, one win at a time.