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<P>To all the 'Associate Research Assitants' out there! Enjoy!</P>
<P>Frank<BR></P></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> A woman named Emily renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's
<DIV></DIV> office was asked by the woman recorder to state her occupation. She
<DIV></DIV> hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself. "What I mean is,"
<DIV></DIV> explained the recorder, "do you have a job, or are you just a . . ?"
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> "Of course I have a job," snapped Emily. "I'm a Mom."
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> "We don't list 'Mom' as an occupation . 'Housewife' covers it," said the
<DIV></DIV> recorder emphatically.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same
<DIV></DIV> situation, this time at our own Town Hall. The Clerk was obviously a
<DIV></DIV> career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title
<DIV></DIV> like, "Official Interrogator" or! "Town Registrar."
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> "What is your occupation?" she probed.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> What made me say it, I do not know? The words simply popped out. "I'm a
<DIV></DIV> Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human
<DIV></DIV> Relations."
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair, and looked up as
<DIV></DIV> though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly,
<DIV></DIV> emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my
<DIV></DIV> pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the official
<DIV></DIV> questionnaire.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> "Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in
<DIV></DIV> your field?"
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply,
<DIV></DIV> "I have a continuing program of research, (what mother doesn't), in the
<DIV></DIV> laboratory and in the field, (normally I would have said indoors and
<DIV></DIV> out)
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> I'm working for my Masters, (the whole darned family), and already have
<DIV></DIV> four credits (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most
<DIV></DIV> demanding in the humanities, (any mother care to disagree?), and I often
<DIV></DIV> work 14 hours a day, (24 is more like it). But the job is more
<DIV></DIV> challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are more
<DIV></DIV> of a satisfaction rather than just money."
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she
<DIV></DIV> completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I
<DIV></DIV> was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could
<DIV></DIV> hear our new experimental , (a 6 month old baby), in the child
<DIV></DIV> development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt I had
<DIV></DIV> scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as
<DIV></DIV> someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than "just
<DIV></DIV> another Mom."
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> Motherhood . . .. What a glorious career! Especially when there's a
<DIV></DIV> title on the door.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> Does this make grandmothers "Senior Research associates in the field of
<DIV></DIV> Child Development and Human Relations" and great grandmothers Executive
<DIV></DIV> Senior Research Associates"? I think so!!! I also think it makes Aunts
<DIV></DIV> "Associate Research Assistants."
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> Please send this to another Mom, Grandmother, Aunt, and other friends
<DIV></DIV> you know.
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV> May your troubles be less, your blessings more, and nothing but
<DIV></DIV> happiness come through your door
<DIV></DIV>
<DIV></DIV>Pheobe
<DIV></DIV>
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