Wearing my rose-colored glasses this morning, I wrote about sexy older women looks at New York Fashion Week, and the younger men who adore them. This is such a growing, under-reported trend.

If you’re an attractive, healthy, wise and confident older woman, you have accomplished men a decade younger and more, eating out of your beautiful hands these days. That’s the good news.

Men On One Side, Women On The Other

The bad news is the rumble that’s coming. I don’t like chasms in human relations.

As a non-degreed, cultural anthropologist and observer of human nature, I’m terribly concerned about the state of affairs between men and women in America.

As one man said to me recently “You mean, have we had enough of American women and we’re not going to take it anymore? Yeah, Anne … I’d say we’re getting ready to rumble. F—- em … American women, that is.” Sorry dear readers, but that is what he said, and it wasn’t a sexual invite.

Seeking Sugar From Michelle

Running away from looming truth and drinking my French Roast, I went to Michelle-Style, looking for some Sweet Honey in the Rock. Michelle brought some sugar to the White House yesterday, and I wanted to share it with you.

We all know that I have a wandering mind, which next took me to The African Children’s Choir … because I’m trying to do something relevant over at Michelle-Style, besides writing about the First Lady’s cardigan sweater.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the interest in Michelle’s Style. My broader focus is the Obama influence on American and international culture and the serious questions that divide our lives. I think there is a theme here.

Perhaps I just hate conflict, even though I’m as competitive as they come.

Young Women’s Wisdom

I could say that flights of fancy are for the young, but Feanne and Susanna Cole discredit that assumption.

Every damn time I arrive at Girl Meets NYC, Susanna makes me gasp. If you think I’m thoughtful, read her.

“What the world really needs is more love and less paperwork”

We are not so different, you and I. Nestled beneath the faint arc of our rib cage is an instrument that we have christened the “heart”, its intricate, intimate humming, stringing the seconds, from moment to minute, giving us life.By now, you wonder how I will pull all these words together. Easy. It’s the cycle of life theory. What goes around, comes around.

From The African Children’s Choir, I saw Choirmaster Gareth Malone leading a 100 strong , all-boys choir singing “Stand By Me”. They are young men of every color, singing their hearts out.

Stand By Me/Beautiful Girls - The Choir - BBC Two

Hearing the words and watching the faces of these young boys … like a not-so-little bird … I flew back home to Anne of Carversville and where I began this morning, writing about strong women.

A true Goddess understands her power. She knows when to fight and when to play the violin, when to be the assistant, when to stand by. There’s value in an occasional supporting role.

Michelle Obama understands this universal truth about relations between men and women, and she will teach us a good lesson about relationships. Sometimes 1+1=3.

Goddesses, Unite

Until we ladies are all ready to hop the next helicopter to Kabul (and many of us honorable and glorious Goddesses do just that), but most of us do not … I say we need to stand by on occasion … or we will be standing down independent, seemingly victorious and disheartened.

As Susanna Cole reminds us, what the world really needs is more love and less paperwork.

Do you know that in a highly reputable survey, the majority of American women in white-collar positions would rather give up time with their husbands, than spend less time in the office? For all our arguments about neglect and his disinterst, surveys indicate that this is women’s preference.

I don’t know about you, but I say “Goddesses Unite”. Because these guys need a Muse or two, not another critique. The world is a stormy sea, and I want to know what we women intend to do about it.

Volunteer? Perhaps applaud these young boys on occasion? Sorry for the mini rant. I don’t know what came over me.

Love, Anne