1949

Seven year old Saundra Paula fell asleep finishing the third hockey book she had read that month. Her dream was filled with swirling uniform team colors - black and yellow, blue and white, green yellow and red - and the clopping-swish-snarling sound of skates on the ice. Edging into her dream was the softer sound of her mother coming up the stairs. Before going down again, she would check in with Saundra Paula. Her mother always knocked first and then came in.

“What are you reading, dear?”

“A book about hockey called We Came Through. It’s the third hockey book I’ve read. Now that I understand the game, I want to be a hockey player.”

“Girls can’t play hockey.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too rough. You might get hurt. Girls are delicate. Only boys can play hockey.”

“The players wear stuff so they won’t get hurt.”

“No. It doesn’t matter. Girls are not allowed. Now put that book away and come downstairs. You can help me with dinner. The proper way to feed your family is the kind of thing little girls need to learn.”

Seven year old Saundra Paula fell asleep reading a book about test pilots. Test pilots flew new and experimental aircraft to see if they were safe - a very important job. Her dream was filled with the sound of a roaring engine, invisible spinning blades, the sensation of diving downward, of swooping upward, and a view of the sky from above the clouds. Below there were miniature houses, and her miniature self in the bodies of boys and girls playing hide-and-seek, concealing their bodies behind red berried bushes and lofty green trees. She was careful not to crash and harm anyone.

Edging into her dream was the softer sound of her mother coming up the stairs. Before going down again, she would check in with Saundra Paula. Her mother always knocked first and then came in.

“What are you reading, dear?”