I know you are not going to believe this, but writing a Blog on singleness was not one of the big 10 on my life-list of to dos.  I just assumed that at some point in my little life I would be one of the myriad of women in the proverbial yellow house with the white picket fence, 2 kids, 2 cars and a dog in the yard.  (Can you tell I’m in my 40s? The younger generations may not even get that last bit about the picket fence. But then, they are pretty savvy. So, who knows.)
Ironically, I didn’t really think about it until I started this whole experiment thing. But it occurred to me one day, I am probably qualified to write this blog more than I really realized. I may have even been prepped to write this little tome since I was but just a pup.  Allow me to divulge.
My grandmother was a knock out. She married a very nice man when they were young.  A guy who looked like Ronald Reagan actually.  He was athletic.  A couple of years older than she was. He played the trumpet. They even volunteered their time and ministered to what they called bums down on skid row in Los Angeles during the 30s.  (I know, that last part is completely politically incorrect these days. But honestly, back then, that is how they were referred to in many parts of the country.) But I digress
Anyway.  The young man got a bit older, had a bit of a problem with alcohol and my grandmother ended up a divorcee’ with two children – in the 1940’s. Not real common back then. And there was definitely no plan “B” in place. Nor was there a precedent that she was aware of or had access to that would help her in this situation. In order to keep, and stay in, her apartment she had to sit before a board of men (the ones who ran her apartment building) and be judged and tried. She was forced to petition to see if they would even grant her permission to work off the 9 months back rent –which her husband had left her.  (We’ve sure come a long way since then.) Long story short.  She won. And she paid it all off!
To make ends meet, she worked in a little fast food joint (where the married owner thought she was a cutie and liked to hit on her periodically), worked at a movie theatre ticket counter, collected bottles for cash and served her girls chipped beef on toast.  Not only did she survive, she ended up owning her own company later in life. That company ended up with three different branch offices in Southern California.  Not bad for a divorced mom with no mentor or role model and no college education. In those days, women did not grow up and get single by divorce.
My mother was also a knock out. She was married to a super guy and had a little girl. (That would be me.)  One day, when she was 33, she was informed that her 36 year old husband had been diagnosed with cancer and she was informed that he had 3 months to live.  He lived for 4.  And then, he was gone. No life insurance policy.  No real savings. Just an eight-year-old daughter and a house.  She had a high school education.  But that was it. It never occurred to her that she would grow up and get single by widowhood.
As the child of a single mother, who was also herself the child of a single mom, it is amazing that I ended up finishing high school and attending a 4-year, private university.  I even went to Hawaii and Europe with the high school band.  In college, I had the incredible opportunity to live in L.A for a semester and study acting professionally in Hollywood (while getting college credit).  I also got my Screen Actor’s Guild card. It was simply awesome.  My grandmother and mother supported every move I made.  They were always there. At every performance and in the front row.  With bells one. (Well, not really, but you get the picture.) They were determined to make sure I had the opportunities in life that they had not been given. They wanted me to succeed and have the things they did not have when they were growing up. I am more than grateful, I am honored and moved to tears when I think about it. (Don’t get weepy on me. It’s all good. Really!)
So there you have it. My grandmother was a divorced, single mom. My mother was a widowed single mom. And again, I have a dog.  I too am a single mom. Well, sort of.
But you get the idea. I am definitely– single.
See you tomorrow!