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Gloria Steinem Death prompts reflections on my own personal “origin story” as a “feminist”

September 3, 2026

Yesterday, Gloria Steinem, 92, died.

We “second-wave feminists” are exiting this plane.

Which pulls me back into remembering . . .

1964. I was married to Patrick, who was pursuing his MA in Architecture from Harvard. Not quite 22 years old, with two small sons, we had just arrived in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and I was, as usual, in the doldrums. What had become of my life? It was obviously not my life; pregnancy had “forced” me to marry (given my then allegiance to strict Catholic upbringing), and basically, I personally saw no future that was actually mine. I was a functionary, period.

Enter Nancy, the wife of another Harvard student, classmate of Patrick. She and I began to have coffee together, in the mornings at my kitchen table with a view of the Charles River, 20 stories below. I could and sometimes do, date the beginning of my real life to those morning coffee dates with Nancy.

It didn’t take long before we were speaking intimately, finding ourselves digging deeper and deeper, divulging personal feelings about our lives, the direction they were taking, our mutual frustration. Indeed, we were, without consciously realizing it, beginning to see our lives sociologically, in terms of the “roles” we were playing.

Note: we weren’t “blaming” men. That way of twerking the situation, and the inevitable politization, polarization, was NOT what we had in mind. Our men were in “roles” too. And, likely, none of us, male or female if we really looked deeply, were happy about it.

I had never thought about “roles” before! Nor had Nancy.

One might say now, that we were actually seeing how we were “plugged into the matrix.”

Or: one might say that we were seeing, getting an actual perspective on, the “framework,” the “overton window” through which we perceived the external world.

Get it? This was a HUGE DEAL. Anytime we step outside a limited frame, to notice the frame itself, we open to infinity. Or we can. But very people realize this. It’s too scary. So most people just place each frame within another larger one. But what if, instead, we use that opening to let go of limits of any kind?

 

Glorida Steinem was one of the pioneers who played a role for us. But Betty Friedan, at least for me, her book, The Feminine Mystique, was my own personal wake-up call.

Her femous remark, “the problem that has no name,” haunted me. I read this book before we landed in Cambridge, while we were living in the D.C. area, right after it was published, in February 1963. I was still completing my B.A., had one child already, with another on the way.

There was no one, I repeat, no one, with whom I could discuss this “problem.” I was alone, and desperate for company.

 

My morning coffees with Nancy, in 1964, without our realizing it — all we knew was that we were so glad to connected in a real way, stripping off the masks — were among of thousands of tiny, but it turned out, extremely fertile seeds that evolved into “the women’s movement.”

Our two-person connection was soon joined by “consciousness-raising” groups everywhere.

 

 

“ROUTINE BUILDS CHARACTER” . . . I notice gradually shifting priorities

September 2, 2026

“Routine builds character.” I will never forget this advice I received, back in my 20s. At the time I didn’t think much of it. So why then, did it lodge in memory?

For decades now, my life has been rhythmically patterned, with daily walks and exercise primary. What I call my “two hours of physical culture.”  Without this grounding, nothing else gets done. Without it, I would probably be dead by now, or at least, given my fiery temperament, completely crazed.

DETAILED DAILY HEALTH ROUTINE: because, “at 83, the alternative is entropy”

BTW: from now on, when I refer, even obliquely in this blog, to my astrological chart, I’m going to direct the reader to its online presence, just in case readers are interested in this symbolic language which maps the unique signature moment when the soul chooses to re-enter this material world. I remain eternally grateful for my attraction, indeed, to what became my fascination, over 60 years ago, with this extraordinarily powerful language, that can help make sense of the lives of even the weirdest among us!

 

AK Astrology

Today, on my morning walk with Scampi, I happened to notice that my schedule, my daily pattern, is, once again, mutating. Now, I spend only one to two hours with daily compositions, usually posted here. That’s now, in the morning, 10 AM to 12 PM.

This is way down from even a few years ago. I do seem to be retiring to a more relaxed form of life.

Well, I’d say, yes, and NO. I’m German, after all, possibly genetically programmed to live my life with purpose — not just randomly, not just “holding on until I die.”

So, in lieu of so much computerizing, I’ve recently instituted a new 1 to 2 hour slot: and that is, after my one hour nap (1-2 PM), I aim, for the near future, to tackle one clean-up or reorganization project. For today? Clean up the front porch — especially the shelves. This, despite the extreme heat (expected to go peak at 94° this afternoon). Will I make it outside? Or will I change to a clean-up project inside. We’ll see. The porch does have a ceiling fan.

During heat waves, I always walk Scampi even earlier than usual in the morning, starting out just prior to sunrise. And for our shorter evening walk, we wait until almost sunset, when it does begin to cool off. In these habits, not surprisingly, I pass by many many other early morning and evening walkers!