The sun has returned this morning so I finished my second cup of coffee on the deck. It was cold out, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to waste any sunlight. It’s been so cloudy and rainy the last few days the solar lights in my yard were dark last night.

The flowers and herbs except for two small pots of mint are planted. Later this morning I’ll plant the mint in the backyard where it can spread. I bought only a few flowers this first trip as my garden center was still fairly empty. Most of the flowers need a bit more warmth than the cold nights we’ve been having. The zinnias for my window boxes won’t be in for a few more weeks, and I’ll have to let the possum know the tomatoes haven’t been planted yet.

When I was in the seventh and eighth grades, I played CYO basketball. That was when the rules in girls’ basketball stated you could only dribble twice and hold the ball three seconds before passing. Guards played one half of the court and forwards the other. Guards never shot, even after being fouled. A forward took the shot. My scoring average at the end of every season was 0.00. We had practice every Saturday morning, but we wanted more. In school, at recess, the boys hogged all the basketball courts while we girls were supposed to stand and chat or jump rope. I went and asked if one court could be designated for girls so we could practice. That request horrified the power that was, sister superior, and we were told no. I was livid. My teacher at the time, Mrs. Corchoran, we had nuns only every other year back then, squatted beside my desk and quietly explained why it was an inappropriate request. She asked first if I had had my friend. I didn’t know which friend she meant. That gave her the answer. She went on to explain that girls cannot play strenuous sports, and I would learn why in due time. I had no idea what in the heck that woman was talking about.

It’s strange but I remember every bit of that incident. I was two desks from the back of the room  and can still see, in my mind’s eye, Mrs. Corchoran squatting and then whispering to me. She was facing the back of the room. Afterwards, I was a bit stunned. It made no sense to me that my being a girl was reason enough to say no.

It was the beginning of awareness for me, a belief in fairness and equality. It was the start of rebellion.