Something old, something new….
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Something old

Coming together in a hotel ballroom with the rebels in the cause of a women’s art/communication system, the researcher feels a tiny thrill of danger. The community is open to anyone willing to participate, but closed to anyone who might jeer, or worse, blow the whistle. A man in a ten-gallon hat approaches and wants to know what is going on. There is a gleam in his eye: he sees only women about. Not all of them are pretty – some of them are middle-aged, or overweight, or both. They all return his bravado with suspicion.

Lois, in her late forties and looking very prim, looks up from her place at the registration table and smiles the smile of PTA mothers everywhere. “It’s a meeting of a ladies’ literary society,” she answers very properly.

“Mighty nice,”…

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