Being Invisible!

Some say women are "invisible" after forty. The only time it really bothers me is when I'm trying to get a salesperson to acknowledge me so I can complete my transaction and be on my way. Of course, it would be nice to have someone flirt with me occasionally, but even that's no great loss; I've got a good husband who sees past the wrinkles.

So what's so bad about being invisible? Not everyone can do it. I know it wouldn't work for my husband. He's the "peacock" and being the center of attention suits him, and it suits me, too, because it allows me to observe. To observe is one of the benefits of "invisibility." If you've spent time in a big city, you know what I mean. In an urban setting, nearly everyone thinks they're invisible.

My husband collects antiques. I collect "moments," little bits of sensory nuggets. Here's the last little bit garnered from a recent trip to the city. A young woman, walking while talking on her cell phone somewhere around 33rd and Broadway, said to her friend, "I told him to bring me something vegan. And you know what he brought me? A stuffed animal."

I could not have made that up. What a rich little nugget! Now, don't you agree there's something to be said for being "invisible?"

Barbara

The other day I read about a woman undergoing treatment for breast cancer. In the article she expressed her gratitude for the online sites, such as Caring Bridge, which allow people with serious illnesses to easily keep friends, family and acquaintances up to date on their treatment. I won't presume to pass judgement. Having undergone treatment four times for cancer, I know everyone deals with these traumas in his or her own way. What the story did was to remind me how drastically our culture has changed. We've gone from "don't talk about it" to Twitter.
When I was growing up, people kept personal issues private. Everything, it seemed, was a secret. Marital problems and illness were among the real no-nos. "Nervous breakdown" was the general term used when someone disappeared for a while. It implied everything from anxiety to full-fledged insanity. Cancer was a word to be avoided, or whispered. When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer thirty years ago, my mother-in-law wrote a lovely letter, concluding with "don't worry. I won't tell anyone" even though I did not swear her to secrecy.

Today, of course, people believe their every feeling, experience and activity is worthy of being shared with the world at large. It's my guess that the openness of the 60's and the Internet are responsible. So, I ask myself, which do I prefer? Offhand, the elimination of the "society of secrecy" is a positive. People who are in failing relationships, or are diagnosed with serious illnesses should not be made to feel shame or guilt. I am grateful when good friends confide problems and experiences, but at the same time, I find it annoying to be the recipient of constant less than earth-shattering news from acquaintances. Sort of like the lengthy Christmas letters sent en masse describing every trip, family gathering, and on and on.

The question I ask myself, is have we as a society become so self-involved that we take for granted the world is interested in our everyday comings and goings? If so, is it a generational thing? Just wondering.

Fran