My husband and I, when we had our five children and they were grown, we thought we were entitled to grandchildren. And so we were just expecting this to happen; of course, nothing was happening. And then we kept begging, bribing, cajoling, anything - threatening to adopt our own grandchildren - and finally, we got some grandchildren.
My grandmother, who passed away at the beginning of November, had a core adage in her life that life is not about what happens to you but about what you do with what happens to you. She recently had been cajoling me and challenging me to do more with my life. To lead more of a purposefully public life.
Rosenfeld runs the metropolitan staff, the Post's largest, like a football coach. He prods his players, letting them know that he has promised the front office results, pleading, yelling, cajoling, pacing, working his facial expressions for instant effects - anger, satisfaction, concern. - Carl Bernstein, Bob Woodward
Hermes visited him in the Underworld a few days before the spring equinox festival, cajoling Hades to come to it. Hades wandered across the fields with him, Kerberos limping along at his side. 'No one wants the god of death at their fertility festival.' 'Sure they do. I've heard plenty of girls sighing over your tasty darkness.' 'Tasty darkness. Really.
Almost everyone in heaven has someone on Earth they watch, a loved one, a friend or even a stranger who was once kind, who offered warm food or a bright smile when one of us had needed it. And when I wasn't watching I could hear the others talking to those they loved on Earth: just as fruitlessly as me, I'm afraid. A one-sided card cajoling and coaching of the young, a one way loving and desiring of their mates, a single-sided card that could never get signed.
Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in faces-though I cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgment.
Wyatt should've looked ridiculous sitting on the floor, leaning into the crate making kissykiss noises at the cat, but he didn't. He looked ... mouthwatering. 'Hey, sweet thing, ' he said in a low cajoling voice. 'Come on out. I'll gonna love you up, I promise. You know you want some of that.' 'Oh, please, ' Emily said on a laugh to cover up the fact that her bones melted at the sound of him. 'That's never going to work-' But hell if the cat didn't shift ever so slightly closer to Wyatt and sniff at him. Wyatt flashed both Sweetie and Emily a smile. 'Aw, that's it, ' he crooned to the suspicious, wary cat. 'Come on, baby girl, all the way. I'll be good to you, I promise.' Emily laughed again, even as she felt her nipples tighten. She crossed her arms over her chest. 'Honestly, Wyatt, no selfrespecting female - cat or woman - is going to-
The surest guide to the correctness of the path that women take is joy in the struggle. Revolution is the festival of the oppressed. For a long time there may be no perceptible reward for women other than their new sense of purpose and integrity. Joy does not mean riotous glee, but it does mean the purposive employment of energy in a self-chosen enterprise. It does mean pride and confidence. It does mean communication and cooperation with others based on delight in their company and your own. To be emancipated from helplessness and need and walk freely upon the earth that is your birthright. To refuse hobbles and deformity and take possession of your body and glory in its power, accepting its own laws of loveliness. To have something to desire, something to make, something to achieve, and at last something genuine to give. To be freed from guilt and shame and the tireless self-discipline of women. To stop pretending and dissembling, cajoling and manipulating, and begin to control and sympathize. To claim the masculine virtues of magnanimity and generosity and courage. It goes much further than equal pay for equal work, for it ought to revolutionise the conditions of work completely. It does not understand the phrase 'equality of opportunity', for it seems that the opportunities will have to be utterly changed and women's souls changed so that they desire opportunity instead of shrinking from it.
Deception is the natural defence of the weak against the strong, and the South used it for many years against its conquerors; to-day it must be prepared to see its black proletariat turn that same two-edged weapon against itself. And how natural this is! The death of Denmark Vesey and Nat Turner proved long since to the Negro the present hopelessness of physical defence. Political defence is becoming less and less available, and economic defence is still only partially effective. But there is a patent defence at hand, -the defence of deception and flattery, of cajoling and lying. It is the same defence which peasants of the Middle Age used and which left its stamp on their character for centuries. To-day the young Negro of the South who would succeed cannot be frank and outspoken, honest and self-assertive, but rather he is daily tempted to be silent and wary, politic and sly; he must flatter and be pleasant, endure petty insults with a smile, shut his eyes to wrong; in too many cases he sees positive personal advantage in deception and lying. His real thoughts, his real aspirations, must be guarded in whispers; he must not criticise, he must not complain. Patience, humility, and adroitness must, in these growing black youth, replace impulse, manliness, and courage. With this sacrifice there is an economic opening, and perhaps peace and some prosperity. Without this there is riot, migration, or crime. Nor is this situation peculiar to the Southern United States, is it not rather the only method by which undeveloped races have gained the right to share modern culture? The price of culture is a Lie.
W.E.B. Du Bois