I was recently reminded by a long-time friend (that would be you, Victor) whom I haven't seen in years that I was a totally bossy, uncompromising bully of a kid growing up. -- These are my words, by the way, not his (though I am fairly certain that he would not argue with my choice of adjectives). He merely reminded me that I was "the Boss" of the neighborhood "clubhouse" when we were kids. The "clubhouse" was actually a small shed that my dad erected at the far corner of our property. I believe his intention was to house wood & tools from the elements in the Northeast, but we quickly moved in little chairs and a rusty make-believe kitchen set, and, presto-change-o, we had a clubhouse. I think dad exercised his property rights in the winter, but for several summers, it was our little fiefdom in which to inflict childhood insults and injuries.
It could be that my take-charge attitude stemmed from the fact that the shed was built by my dad on our property, and that I was the oldest of our group of neighborhood kids, and I took full advantage of that esteemed position. But whatever the reasons, I remember now that I liked being the boss. I made and enforced rules, instituted dues, and changed them all to suit myself. I was a perfectly corrupt little dictator, to be sure, but I was also a confident. outspoken, take-charge individual, and this recollection surprised me.
Because somehow, slowly, over the years, in the process of becoming an adult (and a woman) I have frequently abandoned my obvious zest for leadership. In so many of my life's roles, I have taken on a passive or secondary position, even when I would have done well for myself and others to take the reins. Victor reminded me that I was once a force to be reckoned with, and as I (FINALLY) approach the signing of some very important papers that release me to the next chapter of my life, I needed that reminder.
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