Recently, I purchased a new compound bow.
But before me, there was my mother, Linda—pictured above in the 1970s, bow in hand, buck by her side.
She was beauty, grace, and strength personified. A working woman raising three children in an era when men didn’t cook or fold laundry—no slight to my father, who labored hard for our family, but the truth is, she worked and did everything else, too.
Mom carried it all:
❤︎ Her career was with PG&E, including a short but historic stint as the company’s first female pole climber.
❤︎ She spun Christmas magic no matter the budget.
❤︎ She prepared entire Thanksgiving dinners—every dish from scratch, long before microwaves—and she often made sure a friend to her, though a stranger to our family, who had no where to go for the holiday, found a seat at our table.
❤︎ Nightly dinners were a feat. They were always hearty—mostly meat and potatoes—because Dad didn’t like those fancy magazine salads from the checkout aisle. All this after her day job.
❤︎ She kept our house humming. She drove me fifty miles to orthodontist appointments on precious Saturdays once a month for years, because only the best orthodontist would do. She shuttled us kids to baseball, music, Brownies, theater— and somehow managed a full dinner from scratch every night.
❤︎ And so much more…than I can ever fully share.
Above it all, she put everyone else first.
She was feminine—a true renaissance woman. A woman who began life painfully, almost debilitatingly shy, yet found her voice. She found her confidence. She flourished.
When I hold my bow, I think of her—a woman who balanced tradition and independence, who showed me that strength and femininity can live in the same hands.
What Is a Renaissance Woman?
To me, a renaissance woman—and a renaissance mother—is someone who lives fully in every role she holds. She bridges worlds, grows with time, and moves through life with both strength and grace.
A woman of many skills and eras within one life. She’s capable in every sphere—career, creativity, family, intellect.
A woman who evolves. She doesn’t stay confined to one identity. She learns, reinvents, and expands.
A balance of strength and refinement. She can fix, build, nurture, or create—power and grace intertwined.
A timeless archetype. She feels both classic and forward-looking—a woman who could have inspired a painting or a poem.
She’s hip. She’s modern. But she’s grounded.
That was Linda Lee.
My new compound bow
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7 comments
Your beautiful mother sounds like an amazing woman! I’m sorry she passed so young. I’m sure she had a lot more to accomplish in her life. Isn’t it incredible how much our working moms were able to juggle in life?
I’m always amazed! While us kids had chores, I wonder why she didn’t ask more of us. She also dealt with so much more than I’m able to reveal. So. Much. More. But I felt a bit of family pride buying my bow and felt the call to share.
You know, you got me thinking, Sue. I suppose every generation has their own challenges. In any case, we all seem to find our way, some more than others. And men have their own challenges, of course. But I’ve come to think of women as warriors.
Brandon and I are both luck with amazing moms 🙂 Also, HOW COOL that your mom was the first female pole climber at PG&E!!
Thank you, Emily. 🥰
And oh my gosh, right? It really was a big deal. Mom was featured in the newspaper—they dedicated a full section to her with the most wonderful photos. My clippings are tucked away, and it’s always an emotional journey to look through them. Maybe I’ll share them someday.
Isn’t it wild that a woman simply doing her job was once so groundbreaking it made headlines? Then I remember—I was twelve years old on October 28, 1974 (nearly 1975!) when women were finally legally allowed to get their own credit cards in their own name. Allowed. The thought still makes my blood pressure percolate.
Beautifully said! And for those who knew her, her impact on our lives transcends time ❤️
💗💗💗