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It's not the hushed, conspiratorial sound of men in boardrooms or the exalted "C" suites. It's the squeal of greeting, laughter and recognition; the high-pitched tone of excitement.

It's not the back-slapping, checking-you-out-for-the-right-spot to insert the knife of betrayal, or firm handshake/secret test of strength of men in suits. It's the hugs and hands on the arms of old friends, the hugs and hands on the arms of soon-to-be friends.

It's not the jostling of men for place in a hierarchy of power or even just in line for the restroom. It's the sending forward of the woman doing the most desperate dance in the Ladies Room line, the woman best prepared for the book pitch.

It's not the stampede to get to the front of the room or a seat at the head table. It's the invitation to the person all alone to join a table of strangers; it's the speaker everyone wants to meet showing her complete lack of pretense by joining the group at the table by the kitchen.

It's not the arm shielding the test answers so others can't see; it's not the "I made it on my own so you'll have to make it on your own." It's the finger pointing out the correct answer, it's the suggestions and ideas, and the "here's what worked for me" comments. It's the generosity of "I made it, you can, too, and here's how."

It's not the heartless critique of a flawed presentation or a failed marketing campaign on Fifth Avenue. It's the standing ovation and hooting and cheering as a show of support for the frightened woman who ventures out of her home and onto a limb. It's her female audience saying, "We won't let you die alone out there."

It's the quiet murmur of collaboration, the hand on the shoulder in support, the set-up for the punch line, the laughter that says I know what you mean, the applause that says you nailed it, now keep going…

It's the filling of empty cups (okay, and wine glasses, too) and it's the shoring up of others' confidence and self-esteem. It's the healing of wounded parts, the sharing of insecurities and doubts, and it's the rekindling of each other's spirits when our inner flames have gone out.

It's different from other workshops and conferences; it's the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop. You might mistake it for fun and games and nothing more, but your estimation would fall foolishly short. It's the sound of joy, laughter, friendship and support. It's the joyous sight and sound of women at work.

- Barbara Cooley

Barbara Cooley is a writer and personal historian who manages to find the humor in life even when her bread lands butter side down. Widely published in neighborhood newsletters, and the occasional local newspaper lost and found, Barbara has also published several pieces in publications known only to an elite few. As the owner of Your Life & Times, Barbara helps people capture, preserve and share their family's story through photographs, heirlooms, recipes, memories and more. She lives and works in Grand Rapids, Mich., where she and her husband, Jim, share their home with rescue dog, Tai, who enjoys the bread on the floor no matter which side it lands on.