Amber Alert

Growing up in the small farming community of Alpine, Mississippi, I never expected to one day see it make the headline news.  And for such a sad reason.  The bodies of Jo Ann Bain and her daughter Adrienne, missing since April 27, were found buried in a shallow grave behind a house less than 3 miles from my old home place.  There are two other daughters of the Bain family still missing, along with alleged kidnapper, Adam Mayes.  Everyone in Alpine and surrounding towns are, with good reason, alarmed that Mayes might still be in the area.  Although it is a viable concern (there are places one could hide for weeks without being found), my thoughts are that he is long gone.  The FBI should have snagged him when they first investigated and had the chance.  No doubt, there must have been some reason why they didn’t; but they’re not saying what it was.  Just watched Nancy Grace’s take on the story. She basically mirrored my speculation.  This story gets more bizarre as new developments unfold.  Now, Mayes’ mother and wife are in custody.  My, my!  Please keep the two remaining children in your thoughts and prayers that they are found unharmed.

OFF-TOPIC—BURNING THE BRA OR FINDING THE EQUIVALENT

As a teenager…you know that dreamy state where the horizon is never-ending and the grass always looks greener on the other side…I vowed to never become like many of the housewife fras I observed in my neighborhood: frumpy, bedraggled and well, oftentimes (the horror of it all) BRALESS. It seemed so obscene.

In all fairness to those frumpy, bedraggled and braless women, I grew up in a rural area, a farming community, where the women:
* Worked as hard as the men, putting in long hours in the fields beside their husbands;
* Tended to their children;
* Kept the house as clean as possible (remember here, I’m talking about farmers’ wives who couldn’t afford the modern technology of dishwashers, vacuum cleaners or servants);
* Made, repaired, cleaned and ironed the family’s clothing;
* Dished up food they cooked for their rowdy bunch (usually from staples they had harvested and preserved through either canning or freezing).

In retrospect, it makes me tired just thinking about it—or the ideology that housewives had a life of leisure, to sit and watch soap operas all day. Back then, taking a break to sit down and watch a soap was indeed a luxury.

Moving on down the line:

In the 70s I burned my bras in recognition of womens’ newfound-freedom. Was it really? Well, yes…to a degree. At least women were finally able to wear trousers in an office (and we were hired there). That was a definite plus. Alas, braless was not one of the advantages (though not one of those companies I worked for included the expenses of purchasing such, much less finding a comfortable one).

The moral of my story?

I think perhaps those women back in the day knew the secret long before I ever discovered it. Going braless was not a statement of freedom, it was more an act of trying to be comfortable.

Who really designs these things? Men…that’s my first thought, who obviously have no clue. Victoria or Olga? Yes, they’re better than most…if you’re a model. But what about the millions of ordinary women who go through life seeking a comfortable fit? Braless, at the moment, seems a very understandable choice…not a statement…just a sign of relief!