Trapped Between June and Janis

To wake up in the morning, so routinely,
Dressing up, whether in or out of school;
Today a poodle skirt and blouse to wear,
Striving for perfection was the rule.

Mother preparing breakfast, as usual,
Father reading his paper each day;
Orange juice glasses always properly placed,
Such a perfect table on display.

Fork to the left, sitting on its napkin,
Discipline and order for my life;
Knife to the right, blade facing inward,
Spoon in its place next to the knife.

Would mother pause to eat with us today,
Take off her apron, sit down and rest?
No, she must continue onward with her duty;
June's ways were undoubtedly the best!

And when my world came tumbling down,
With no one knowing how to catch me;
The changes didn't seem to matter much,
Janis's music was there to set me free!

Breakfast became experimentation,
The morning paper now filled with doubt;
What I wore was freedom of expression,
No worries, everything became ‘far out!'

Was it the drugs, the sex, or the war,
That altered my basic philosophy?
Or could it have been June's apron strings,
Which had strangled away my creativity?

Inside my head I can still hear Janis,
Singing songs of free love and life;
But older lessons linger there, as well,
Such as my mother saying, "Be a good wife."

Some days I cook and sew, or merely exist,
I never know just who I ought to be;
Other days I run and play, or sing and dance;
I still walk between two worlds uneasily.

I owe something to June Cleaver and Janis Joplin,
For making me the way I am today:
A tattooed, gray-haired woman wearing tie-dye,
Still wondering what happened to my ‘yesterday.'

Lora Frikken ~ 9-21-02