I recently returned from a gathering of the Crones Council, which celebrates wise, older women (the original meaning of crone). Several crones were lunching at the hotel restaurant. A disturbance interrupted their meal. It became apparent that a group from outside had arrived to protest the meeting of another group in the hotel.
As the yelling on both sides escalated, about a dozen crones rose in silence, linked arms and formed a gray-haired barrier between the two groups. Slowly the crones inched their way forward to the intruding group. The intruders had two choices: trample over women who looked to be their grandmothers or retreat. Retreat out the door they did, spewing spittle and venomous words on the crones all the way.
Still silent, the crones returned to their lunch.
I have never been prouder to be an old woman.
Julene E. Fisher
West Valley City