Interesting (but off-topic) story about Robert Frost's poem, "The Road Not 
Taken" that this picture plays on. I admit to not being a scholar of 
poetry, nor even a big fan of it. This one, however, happens to have a 
great deal of meaning for me personally.

I don't recall ever reading or studying it in high school nor in college 
(but then again as a science major I took only required English courses and 
poetry was never my favorite type of literature anyway).

But there is a very interesting story behind the poem, for those who've 
never read about this. It's been called the most misinterpreted or 
misunderstood poem in history by many:

http://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2015/09/robert-frost-poem-killed-friend/

http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/weve-gotten-wrong-robert-frost-classic/

And some interesting letters exchanged between Frost and the man he wrote 
it for here: 
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/text/road-not-taken-poem-everyone-loves-and-everyone-gets-wrong


And here is how I came to learn about this poem's true meaning.

When my mother died last year, I actually spoke about this at her funeral 
because she had the famous last three lines of Frost's poem along with a 
picture similar to the one in Mags' post above hanging over her writing 
desk. It read:


*Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—*

* I took the one less traveled by,*
* And that has made all the difference. *

I knew for a fact that most in our family misinterpreted that poem (as I 
had) because they'd said many, many times how fitting it was that this was 
her favorite poem because she was indeed a trailblazer in more than one 
way. She did several things in her life that were highly uncommon for women 
to do - both personally and professionally, big and small. So most assumed 
this was her attraction to the poem - the misinterpreted famous last three 
lines of it. 

Some background.
My mom was a kind of feminist - but not the bra-burning, calling for equal 
rights kind of feminist of the 60s and 70s. She was the kind who quietly 
went about showing that women could do anything a man could do, and often 
times better. When we were kids, she could kick a football higher and 
farther than any dad on our block - including over our house - while 
barefoot. When she wanted a kitchen bar and my father refused to spend the 
money, she knocked out the top half of the wall that separated the kitchen 
and dining room herself, patched and painted the ceiling and wall, and 
installed a bar the next day. She was like this my entire life, lol. As you 
can imagine, she was viewed as crazy by some and inspirational by others. 
An aunt from my father's side said when she'd died that my mom would always 
be remembered as "the woman who tore down walls", as a play on the kitchen 
bar story but also of other things she'd accomplished in her life that most 
of us never even think of trying. She demanded nothing from others to make 
or declare her "equal" - including from the government and from the men in 
her life (my father and later my step-father). She was a "doer", not one 
who demanded someone else do something to enable her to do something, and 
there is a big difference between the two. As a political  aside, this is a 
big reason why I have little to no respect for the legions of lunatics who 
call themselves "feminists" today and also for people like Hillary Clinton 
who simply haven't lived what they preach to others or claim to be true. 

>From the time I was born, my mother worked a full-time job, a part-time 
job, and attended college at night to become a nurse (which she achieved 
when I was in 4th grade). And she did this while raising 3 kids pretty much 
alone in the 60s (when any one of these things were fairly uncommon). She 
divorced my father when I was in 5th grade (also uncommon in the 60s) 
despite a truly massive amount of pressure from both sets of my 
grandparents. My father had hit her more than once and the second time he 
did, he was hospitalized because she broke one of those old black phones 
over his head that weighed about 10 lbs, lol. Another time it was an 
endtable she used. As a little girl, I personally admired that in her - 
that she was a fighter who would never take that kind of abuse from anyone. 
My brothers and I were the only ones who never tried to talk her out of 
divorcing our dad. She remarried a good man, had another child, but 
re-divorced, and continued in school for many more years and eventually 
obtained her master's degree in nursing the year I graduated from college 
(while my two younger siblings were still at home or in college). At age 
50, she left a career in nursing administration she'd worked most of her 
life to achieve, joined the Army and moved to Germany with my youngest 
brother in tow, who graduated from high school there. She wanted to "see 
the world" and this was her/their opportunity to do so. She brought back 
thousands of photographs and collectibles from dozens of countries all over 
the world she was able to visit, thanks to the amazing benefits and time 
off afforded army officers. She finished her career working for the 
Veteran's Administration until retiring quite comfortably.

Back to the poem.
So I was kind of shocked when, the night before her memorial service I 
finally took the time to read the entire poem and for the first time, 
understand what it was actually about. After decades of knowing that the 
most famous last lines of this poem hung over her desk, I regretted that 
I'd never bothered to read and understand the context and have that 
conversation with her while she was alive. That night my brother and I 
wondered if she really knew the entire poem and embraced the underlying 
meaning, or if she was like us - and merely knew of and embraced the 
inaccurate, deceiving shortened version that betrayed it. I was curious 
enough to ask the woman who'd been her best friend on Earth for decades 
what she thought about what my mom's interpretation might have been, and 
she didn't know either. None of us did, and none of us ever will know with 
certainty. But we both agreed that it likely wasn't the literal, real 
meaning that my mom held, as the paths she chose were definitely not as 
often traveled as other paths, time and time again. She knew she'd chosen 
the one less traveled on more than one occasion when she faced forks in the 
road of life. So frankly I think she'd done the same thing I and millions 
of others had done and only considered the very out-of-context, famous last 
three lines.

The fact that I learned all of this after having those famous final lines 
engraved on the base of her headstone at first sent me into panic mode. 
Again, this was the night before her memorial service! But the words I 
spoke at her service that addressed most of what I've typed here (along 
with the conclusion and why I'd drawn that conclusion) were very, very well 
received, which was cool. Many people told me afterward that they, too, had 
been among the millions/majority who'd never thought about or understood 
the real meaning of one of Frost's (and one of the world's) most famous 
poems until I spoke of it that day. And we universally agreed that my mom 
was one of "us" - *the mistaken*. :)  But it was fascinating how a 
discussion of that poem enabled me to highlight her life in a way that 
wasn't simply a laundry list of accomplishments in the face of adversity, 
but something a bit more meaningful.

So thanks for the memory of that Mags.


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