Role models? Look in the mirror

By TAD BARTIMUS

"Where are our female role models?" the speaker lamented. "Who can we look up to today?" She threw up her hands and shrugged, as if to say, "I give up."

The former Congresswoman, now retired, then trashed most female characters on TV sitcoms (Ally McBeal was at the top of the list), a large segment of the toy industry (yes, Barbie is still very much with us) and the purveyors of billions of dollars worth of cosmetics to women willing to fork over $50 for wrinkle cream. The more I listened, the more depressed I got. Can it really be this bad? How come I haven't noticed?

My heroines are a nurse who's worked 33 years in the Jackson, Wyoming, emergency room; a farm wife who weathered bankruptcy, climbed aboard a 40-year-old-tractor and helped her husband start over again; a divorced writer who spent Christmas Eve fixing, by herself, a broken washing machine as her eight-year-old daughter cheered her on: "I know you can do it, Mom." And she did.

Then that little voice inside my head, the one we've all got that matches what we hear with what we think, said: "Wait a minute!" On and on she droned, this politician I'd long admired for her commitment to social issues. But somewhere along the way, it seemed to me, she'd lost her footing. Maybe even her sense of humor. I began to tune her out.

Instead, I started to think about her basic premise, that we need super woman role models to emulate, to pattern ourselves after, to hold up to our children as examples. She meant bigger-than-life characters, famous heroines, icons to the sisterhood. That's where we parted company.

If we didn't know it already, recent events remind us that putting faith in humans, no matter how powerful or charismatic they are, is foolish. We all have feet of clay; eventually we're going to fall off that pedestal. So why set ourselves up in the first place? Why invest our hopes and dreams in someone we know isn't perfect? Disappointment becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy; when we expect more than somebody can delivery, they feel diminished and we feel betrayed when they fail to live up to their billing.

I admire many public figures. But having icons implies that I want to do with my life exactly what they did with theirs. I think I've moved on. I want to take the best they have to offer, integrate it into my life, then fulfill my potential by being the best that I can be.

I no longer want, or need, role models on a grand scale. Forget Hollywood, forget sports, forget politics, forget, even, philanthropy. My heroines are a nurse who's worked 33 years in the Jackson, Wyoming, emergency room; a farm wife who weathered bankruptcy, climbed aboard a 40-year-old-tractor and helped her husband start over again; a divorced writer who spent Christmas Eve fixing, by herself, a broken washing machine as her eight-year-old daughter cheered her on: "I know you can do it, Mom." And she did.

This week my friend of 30 years will reach a personal as well as a professional milestone when she assumes the presidency of one of the country's biggest media organizations. We started out together at State U, wearing flip hairdos, Pucci tights and mini skirts. She had big dreams, no money and a lotta heart. She's paid her dues all the way, usually working six days a week and sometimes seven, while raising two sons by herself. As she's inched her way to the top she's constantly reached back to pull other women up with her.

If you're out there every day, giving it all you've got, you've proved the disillusioned Congresswoman wrong. There are female role models everywhere; if you don't believe me, look in the mirror.

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