Mid Season 3 based on canon plus my own additions to backstory and interpretation of Lori Mcreary and Tea Leoni's depiction of Elizabeth. Not my characters.

Elizabeth - in Togo, Africa.

In 1978 I was 10 years old and I won my class science fair project. Mrs. Charles said I had designed an excellent project, discussing how recycling all of our paper, plastic, metal and glass would help change the world. She loved my report - which took an entire weekend to print and colour (and left me with ink stains on my hands that took 3 days of scrubbing to remove), she loved my idea for getting every family in Charlottesville a 4 box recycling system - including the stores and businesses; and she thought that for a shy kid- I really worked hard to look less at my feet and more at my audience. I felt powerful and accomplished for perhaps the first time in my life. Then when I went home Will asked me if I still needed to keep all my junk out on the craft table because he wanted to build LEGO. My parents asked me to clean up, said I had done enough to get the A, and that my idea for a petition that I would take around to all the stores and to city hall was something above my purview. "The bureaucrats are never going to listen to a little girl preach about recycling" said dad firmly.

I was discouraged and then I realized that everything was closed on Saturday and that the shops were busy. So Monday I cut class and took my project to the mayors office. By 4 pm I was back home, deflated. I was grounded for 3 weeks for skipping school and not having told my parents and teachers what I was doing. The school gave me two weeks of detention for cutting class and the principal said that when girls got big ideas it always lead to trouble. I was humiliated and angry. I knew I had just gone with my big idea and hadn't thought it all out. I accepted that I deserved my punishment but I did not appreciate being shut down by everyone. So I hid the project under my bed and over the next two weeks I helped Mrs. Charles clean the classroom every afternoon. Thankfully she had told the principal that it was help she needed, not a kid sitting in the corner with her nose stuck to the wall. I was grateful, and she told me that I had a gift and that as a girl- I would have to fight harder to be heard. She told me to risk getting into trouble to do the right thing and not let punishment bring me down. She also taught me to expect a hard life fighting to excel at math and science. She loaned me some books about these favourite subjects of mine and when my time was served- I dove headlong into my passions. I was more careful; and I did my best to keep my projects from overtaking my daily work. I maintained my good grades, I was braver about speaking up- respectfully, and whenever I could I spent time with Mrs. Charles. I noticed that she called me Elizabeth and not Lizzie. I asked her why and she said that I had a beautiful important name and I should get used to hearing it. I asked her what her name was and she laughed. It was Jasonne. I asked if that was a girls name and she laughed and told me that it did not matter. That it was her father's wish to give his girls strong names. In her day that meant getting a boy's name. I was suitably impressed and I remember thinking that this woman was like Mary Tyler Moore and she had spunk. In 1978 people didn't always like spunk; and that is what Mrs. Charles meant about spending a lot of time in the doghouse. I adored her; so a few years later when she was retiring I dressed up and went to the party. I was 13 at that time and I wanted to pay my respects. I was at a junior high and not with her. She was delighted to see me, she took my hybrid plant of mixed Coleus and said she would treasure her time with me always. She asked how I was doing and I said that when I got into trouble it was because people wanted to shush me. She gave me a hug and told me to be relentless. She warned me that a career in the male fields would be fraught with frustration and let downs, but that meant I need to be tenacious and dogged and to never stay down. "Always rise Elizabeth Adams and always learn about subjects outside math and science because knowldege of many things gives you power."

So I followed her advice, and over the years despite some crushing blows- I found solace and elegance in being called a nerd and a geek. There were days though, when I thought I signed up for lifetime of trouble. Professors who thought that a blue eyed leggy blonde had cheated. That was stressful. When I made a mistake, there was a class full of young frat boys eager to rub my nose in it. When I went for extra help in a thorny calculus unit- the female prof asked me if I was in the right program and then found me a tutor that charged 50 dollars an hour. I ate ramen noodles for six weeks to pay that guy. One time when working at the blackboard, I did not realize my underwear was poking out of my jeans because my shirt had come untucked. That prof came over and grabbed the waistband and gave me a wedgie in front of the whole class. He said if I wanted to show off my underwear he would make sure it showed. I was mortified and angry but it was the 80's and I had already spoken to the dean about this prof. I knew there was no support and I needed this class. However, I found some men and women who thought I had something to say; and I became enamoured with philosophy, political science and history. I remember how Henry was the one man who heard that I was a math major and didn't belittle it. He also still saw me as a full woman. When he told me he wasn't going to call me Lizzie because I had a beautiful and important name - I was breathless. I told him about Mrs. Jasonne Charles and Henry said that our future kids deserved names like that. Beautiful and important. Henry McCord is a man who gets it. We complement one another, we laugh with one another and when we disagree we are loud and passionate and object about information and ideas. We don't humiliate one another, at least not on purpose. If we hurt one another we apologize and give the another the necessary grace to solve the problem.

Henry loves my skills, he loves me. He sees a woman who is juggling constantly, and he doesn't ever offer to make my juggling easier or tell me I can't do it. What he does is encourage, listen to my tears when I drop one of the balls, and suggest how I can recharge myself so the next time I am mixing metaphors and dropping balls and stepping into the line of fire- I feel equipped. I hopefully do the same for him. My husband is happy when I succeed and I know Mrs. Charles would approve.

So now- decades later, I am in Africa as the Secretary of State. I am here as a role model to these girls as the ultimate woman because I am a Dr of Political Theory, with expertise in Math. I am also married and a mother. I am a tomboy who enjoys getting cleaned up. So I am using my voice to give them theirs. It's an honour, it's humbling and I remember what Mrs Charles said in a letter to me before she died. She knew I was married and a mom who worked for the CIA and that my parents had been killed. She told me that I was changing the world and my legacy wasn't over. She told me she was proud of me for being that weirdo who loved math and science. I never found the cure for cancer, and I cried at her funeral. Not long after that I found out I was having another baby and Henry promised me that girl or boy- we would name it Jason or Jasonne. I adore Henry. Jason is not amused that he was named after a girl, and I find that ironic- considering how masculine a name Jason is. My son is a pistol in his own way and he does have a lot of spunk. He spends a lot of time in the doghouse and one day - when he is ready to listen, I will tell him what it is like to be the odd duck in the room. I have tried, but my son isn't ready to be my friend yet. Hopefully, I will be still be here in his adult years- and he will have some troublemakers of his own. I say hopefully only because my job is dangerous. I get reminded of that every now and again. I don't talk about it much because I have been close to dying a few times; and Henry worries. I don't want to scare my husband or my kids. Truth be told, I want to be here for my family until I am too old to function. At 50 I feel like I am just getting started.

I hope my parents would be proud of me. I know they loved me and that they ultimately wanted what was best. I know they would approve of the marriage and the kids. But what of my studies? My career, and the amount of times I have sweated through my suit on my way to potentially be fired or arrested? I shudder sometimes because I can only imagine what they would think of those days. I hope they are somewhere beautiful where we can all find one another one day and I can explain my choices. My geeky, difficult choices. I wish I had been able to talk to them about my studies and my fears. I wish Dad had been able to walk me down the aisle and that Mom had been able to help me figure out how to keep my shirts tucked in. I am 50 years old and I can't do it. I think I am just tall and need longer shirt tails. I have a daughter who wants to design clothing. I know I am proud of her and I know when my kids mess up I still love them. I am proud of their characters - and their desire to grow up and matter. I am proud of the process and maybe therein lies the answer for me. Despite it all my parents knew my heart, like I know the hearts of my children. I think Mom and Dad know that I am happiest when I am In a mess and working to solve it. That's Elizabeth Adams. In too deep, with inky hands and sweaty everything, wild eyed, over caffeinated and ready to take a really big shot. Scared and doing it anyway and ready to accept the consequences of her failures even if they make her cry. I am working on loving her - because Henry and the kids do. I should stop thinking that I am not enough. Elizabeth was a little girl with a big name. I think I have grown into it. Mrs Charles saw it, Henry sees it and maybe now I do too. I am grateful to Mrs. Charles and to other women who paved the way. That I might be one of those women to other girls is an opportunity I didn't even know I wanted. It's challenging, it's terrifying and it's amazing. I am a very blessed person. Oh do I miss my strict but loving parents. I think my mom had a lot to give - but in that time and that place she wasn't comfortable enough to be a troublemaker and I know my dad would have needed a little more time to acclimate to the idea of a woman in a position of power. I have considered that we might have really grated on one another and maybe- maybe we would have had problems if he had lived. I know Patrick McCord could not accept that I was not a housewife, that I travelled and that I wasn't a wall flower to Henry's way of thinking. But Patrick grew to like me, and I imagine and hope that my father would have been someone who wanted me to dare and to dream.

Well, I have a stiff hand, smeared with ink, and if I don't get some sleep it will be difficult to trick Chen into thinking he decided investing in the Togolese on his own. Part of diplomacy is realising when I have to use my eyelashes and my charm to get men to listen. It burns actually. But humans are slow to change and I am the fourth female Secretary of State. I have made history. I in no way feel done. I have strong women around me and also men who have evolved. We'll have arrived when it's OK to be female and male and be judged solely for our actions and not for the shock value that still occurs when a strong woman gets something done.

FIN of this entry