The Times They Are Changing, But Not For The Better
I grew up like most other kids in my hometown, innocent and religious. In our community Sex Ed was forced on the schools, but not tolerated by the church or the Elders. What we knew about sex came from our mothers, grandmothers and older sisters. You have to do it. Women had sex for procreation, it wasn't strange for a 26 six year old to have four kids, and another one in the oven. We all looked forward to being the next generation of mothers, that's all we talked about. You had to do it, but that was because that's how you got to become mothers.
We didn't know any girl, or woman, who took her clothes off. No man was allowed behind the women's doors. Not even for pushing themselves on them. To be truthful, if a man went out into the town and some harlot was there, it was not something to talk about, but no one said anything either if the man found himself with the harlot. I'll go further, when it was time for us to start with our periods, we were bathed by the older women, stood in the tub and we were washed every day until we had passed our period. As we became women it would be our turn to cleanse and wash the younger women who had their period.
This is how I grew up.
I was seventeen when this man and woman came to our house to speak with my parents. The came to ask for my hand in marriage. I was young and looked fertile and I had good hips and an ample bosom. I stood while the man and woman 'negotiated' with my parents, before agreeing to the marriage. I was married a few weeks later and went to live with my new family. My husband, who had rights to me, that was made abundantly clear by his wife, took me and I became a woman, on my way to becoming pregnant and presenting him with a son, or at worst, a girl. His wife, she was now the senior wife, she had only had girls, that's why they went looking for another wife to have sons for him. I was instructed by her to have sons.
I had sons, so all was well in the world.
Like most of all the young women my age, 24 then, I had four sons and a new one in the belly. I prayed daily that this one would be a girl. But as far as the marriage was concerned, I was a good choice, very bountiful and fertile, and I had produced four sons in as many years. I should add that I was happy, content, I got along great with my senior wife and I got along well with her daughters. I had brought that spark back into my husband's eye, when he saw me.
Our business, the way we earned a living, was construction and the boys were quickly integrated. For the girls, it was the chore of hunting for a husband, but because their mother only had girls, that was a strike against them. But, in time, they were all married and the production department was in full swing with them. Boys and girls, and the spell was broken.
I turned fifty with many grandchildren, my sons had done well and married bountiful and fertile women, and they had grown the family with healthy boys and girls. But the times were different and the boys were interested in one wife, and the girls had a trouble finding husbands because of that practice. We had to expand our search for husbands, outside of our community. That meant the girls were leaving. For a mother losing her daughter was heartbreaking.
My youngest daughter wanted to go to college. Postpone her betrothal. And she was of the mindset she would find her husband. She was fiercely independent and my husband by that time was much older and she was the baby of all the children, so he said, let her go, but she better come back pregnant (with a husband).
Whether we liked it or wanted it, the modern world was upon us. Our daughter met this young man, who was from Canada, and she let us know that once married she was moving. She also let me know that she would have two children, TWO. And she was getting her tubes tied. And she wasn't going to start with children, she wanted to travel and have fun first. She wasn't going to be a slave in an apron.
