100 years

My kids were on Winter Break last week, which made for a lot of improvising at our house, complicated by me getting a stomach flu, ending with my husband dropping pizza all over the oven Friday evening. To the rescue: the gift card my aunt and uncle had given us for Christmas to The Spaghetti Warehouse, which we also had coupons for. 

While we were there, my youngest had to visit the ladies' room.  If you, by chance, have never visited a Spaghetti Warehouse, you should know that the decor is circa 1912.  Even in the restroom.  As I waited for my daughter, who took a really long time, I became engrossed in one of the articles of the old newspapers lining the walls.  It was a posting of opinions of proponents and opponents of women's suffrage.

I don't know what angle the editor was spinning from, but there were a lot of men supporting women voting, and a lot of women against it.  I was most intrigued by the statements from women saying that being able to vote would not be a good thing.  Their arguments seemed odd  100 years later, and almost don't even make sense in hindsight. To me, voting is a basic human right.  People who cannot vote simply are not full-fledged members of their society, nor true citizens.  Why would anyone choose that?  "Oh I can influence things from the periphery." Wouldn't you rather exercise your voice? 

The article has stayed with me, and I wonder what we hold on to today that will seem unfathomable 100 years from now.  In what ways are women opponents of what may, in the future, seem like something so elemental on the human rights scale? Or maybe women have toppled all of the walls keeping them out, and there are other strongholds to storm along lines of race, age, etc.?  It's interesting to think about, anyway.  I wonder if we'll even have any newspapers left to cut articles from.  Maybe there will just be like huge Ipad screens everywhere and with a move of your finger you display what you want on the walls.  You may not have to ever look at anything on a wall by chance.  That would be kind of a shame - how many times have I been struck by something that I wouldn't have chosen or even thought to look for, but it enriched my existence by crossing into the field of my consciousness.  Maybe that sentiment will seem silly 100 years from now, when my grandchildren will be wondering why I have boxes of books or letters in my attic. Or old newspaper clippings.