Do you notice how often we are sold the idol through various media?

The three generations of academic women holding hands at a graduation ceremony. Modern authors, if you can be bothered reading the genre writing about women breaking free from their apron strings to boldly go where so many men had gone before and generally the focus is on women celebrities, rather than a Richard or some other Tom, Dick or Harry.

It’s not like the dumpy lady on the couch doing patchwork holds much stock in modern day reverence to our forebears or the scores of barely remembered bodies wasting in rest home beds either.

By comparison, we celebrate the men who were successful in supporting the women’s world. The gracious government employee who did no wrong.

But with thousands upon thousands of dead and missing men in the families of this country, how many are reverred individuals from which grandchildren draw their inspiration?

Not necessarily to be a first at something women haven’t done before – is there is anything left to do?

That’s the bogie man that ignores the resilience, the determination, the dedication, the patience, the inspiration that might be what a grandchild adopts.

Not so much a matter of idols but a conflict in the source of inspiration.

Is it where couch potatoes and gang members come from?