I want to introduce you to one of my favorite fictional women, Amelia Peabody. If you haven’t yet met Amelia, dash to your local library and grab Crocodile on the Sandbank by Elizabeth Peters. It’s the first of a very long series (Amelia would demand no less). I admire Amelia for her self-assurance. Usually, her level of confidence is only gifted to politicians and very small children. But unlike people in those two categories, Amelia fully grasps what’s going on and knows exactly the right thing to do about it. And she will do her duty! If you have a difficulty, she will make sure you do your duty as well! You will be better for it!

Just imagine what that kind of life would feel like. You’d have problems, sure, but you’d simply deal with them all in exactly the right way and never have to worry about whether you should have done something else. You did the right thing. You can sleep easy.  If you ever encounter an especially obstinate person who refuses to do as you like, then just poke them repeatedly with your parasol until they want to cooperate. 

Such people are terrifying. After all, if I wanted to face my problems and implement real solutions, I wouldn’t have the problems I do. Sometimes, I wish some wise person would just tell me what to do. Alas, the sad truth is that most people wise enough to solve my problems are also wise enough not to.  

Anyway, fictional Amelia spent most of her life excavating in Egypt with her equally strong-minded husband and her trusty parasol. The parasol is important because she must constantly fend off curses, thieves and evil mummies (I like to imagine modern archeology is just the same). Easy, if you’re Amelia. 

Another confident woman I wish I had known, had the fabulous name of Prunella Shriek. Unlike Amelia, Prunella was very real. She lived in the late 1800s and loved sports, whether or not they were deemed ladylike. If I was into sports, I hope I’d be just like Prunella. According to various online sources, she was a terrific tennis player and was even the county ping-pong champion circa 1895. So far, so good. It was when she got a bit older and entered men’s skating and skiing races that she got into trouble. She came back from her adventures on crutches or in a wheelchair so often that the local people began to call her “Fractured Prunella.” The name and the broken bones never bothered her; she simply entered the next competition, had fun and dealt with the consequences as they came. 

Much later on, a doughnut shop in Maryland was looking for a name. Wanting to honor so much spirit, they named their shop “The Fractured Prune.” That shop grew into a small chain and is still going in the east. For a while, there was even one in St. George, but it closed. Not knowing anything about running a business or why the store closed, I feel free to be judgmental and say that if they were going to call themselves “The Fractured Prune” they should have shown more grit like the original Prune and stayed open. Also, they should have opened another shop closer to where I live. 

I admire these strong women. It’s not impossible that I could become like them. After all, I own several umbrellas just right for giving others the nudge they so often need. If that fails, I could always simply crash into them like Prunella. Naturally, I will begin my quest by eating some doughnuts. One has to start somewhere.

Anneli Byrd is an academic adviser in Weber State University’s Student Success Center.