I want to tell my pantsuit story.
My mother was a remarkably beautiful and talented woman. She was Valedictorian of her high school class at 16, but then went to secretarial school, because her brother got first call on money for college. She became a professional actress, but moved back to Delaware when she decided to become a mother. When my sister and I were both in school full time, she went back to work…as executive secretary for the Delaware State Arts Council, in its founding year. She worked in downtown Wilmington.
One cold February day, my dad stopped by to take her to lunch. And when she stood up from behind her desk, she was wearing a pantsuit…not a skirt. He turned on his heel and left her there. He wouldn’t be seen in public with a woman in slacks.
So many years ago…but I can still see her face when she told me this story.
No. You cannot shame me about pantsuits.
Two of my sons and my older daughter have already voted for Hillary. My husband and I will on Tuesday.