Today, March 8th, is International Women’s Day, a global day celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future. Although I don’t remember hearing about this day before, apparently it has been celebrated since the early 1900’s, so I decided to find out more information about this day.
Annually on 8 March, thousands of events are held throughout the world to inspire women and celebrate achievements. A global web of rich and diverse local activity connects women from all around the world ranging from political rallies, business conferences, government activities and networking events through to local women’s craft markets, theatric performances, fashion parades and more.
Ironically, this was in the news today as well – stirring up some controversy…
The washing instructions inside a new Indonesian soccer jersey, “Give it to your woman, IT’S HER JOB.” Really!?!!? At our house laundry is not my job. Dave has been doing it since we were married. 22 years of rarely doing the laundry for me!! So no. Laundry is NOT a woman’s job. The company that produced these jerseys, is giving this explanation…
“We did not mean to humiliate women. On the contrary, [we wanted to tell men] to learn from women how to take care of clothes… We apologize for any misinterpretations,” Salvo Sports said on Twitter.
But today, I remember my favorite woman. My mom. It just happens that the last time I ever heard her voice was on March 8th. Fittingly on International Women’s Day I guess. Not that she would have known this was a “day.” She had called me that morning. At school. Knowing full well that I’d be working. She never did that. Only texts. I answered it – even though I was in the middle of teaching, thinking something was wrong. Our conversation was simple and quick.
Hello, I can’t talk now, why are you calling me at work?”
She said in her normal sing song voice,
“Hell-o. I made a reservation for six o’clock at The Reservoir.”
“Okay mom,” I said, “just like every Friday.”
“See you later,” she said.
That was the whole conversation. Every Friday since I was young, we have Friday night dinner together. Usually at The Reservoir, a local Italian restaurant in town. Every Friday, it is at six o’clock. So why the phone call? I never got to ask her since she stopped breathing on her way to dinner that night. I wrote about it here.…last year on this very date.
So on this “Women’s Day” as we celebrate all women, I will especially celebrate her. I miss her everyday. ❤