handstories

Time Traveling

    We've been gone...again.  A road trip down memory lane visiting many of the significant spots from the early years, mostly on the Oregon Coast, in honor of our anniversary.

    The first stop was for the first kiss (April 1980).  Where K. first told me he was falling...

    "Maybe it's because we're on uneven ground?" I said, because I was hoping for that kiss, but struggling to keep my balance on the rocky riverside.

    "I meant in love."  He said.  He kissed me anyway.

    (Note that we did not stop under the old bridge, where I first told K. that I loved him (New Year's Eve 1979).

    "That's great!" he said.  "I'm in love, too!  With L."  I kept loving him anyway.)

    Our first apartment in Corvallis, OR (1983-84).  We had the upper right half.  1920's, two bedrooms, furnished, built in booth table, a sunroom, three-foot deep bookshelves on either side of the fireplace, more cupboards and closets than we could fill... for $210 a month (we talked them down from $225).

    We stopped in Ashland, OR for a couple of nights and plays.  I had spent time there in high school for Thespian conferences, and a couple of visits with a good friend who lived there in the early 80's.  Both shows that we saw were in the outdoor Elizabethan theater.  Perfect weather, with the sky and stage filled with stars, pearls, diamonds, and glitter (it's all about the costumes and scenery for me!).

    The Redwoods.  (Not an Us memory, but we were so close.)

    Bigger than imaginable.

    I wish I could give you a real sense of how far and grandly they reach into the sky.

    The tidepools on Agate Beach in Newport, OR.  A forty-five-minute drive from Corvallis (in 1983-84).  We made the trek often.  Once, a girlfriend and I went late at night and skinny dipped here.  (This is also where my ashes will go.)

    The buildings down there, between the ocean and the lake, are the camp where my siblings and I went for many years.  We loved it there.  I learned to swim in that lake, and, at twelve, was baptized in that bit of the ocean.  Mom thought I should wait and do back home at the church we kids went to (just the kids, our parents had zero interest).  I cried and begged, it had to be in the ocean (where I believed God lived).  She gave in.

    Oceanside, OR.  Where we spent most of our honeymoon (1983).  

    The beach is scattered with jasper and agates.

    We stayed in this family friend's cabin.  It was a lovely relaxing week.  Wandering the beach and K. cooking while I read Ramona the Pest and Winnie the Pooh aloud to him.  When both books were finished, I resorted to the Harlequin romance that I found in the cabin.  I don't remember the title, but the main characters were Brock and Suzanne.  We still laugh at the memory of how "Brock bruised her with his kisses..."

    Rockaway, OR where we were outdoor school counselors together (October 1979).

    The camp beach, where we first held hands (in spite of my being in a relationship with J.)

    And, finally, Haystack Rock on Cannon Beach.  Childhood vacations, one night of our honeymoon, and where we would take our dear nephew for getaways (1988-1995-ish).

    It was a wonderful week with so many memories.  So grateful for all of it.

    There was only a little bit of stitching (the winding coastline roads require looking up!).  It was interesting to notice that what I did stitch had to do with home. 

    It was so good to go and to come home, and to realize how much we are home for each other.

Blue

    (Well, that was an unexpected break from the internet.  More about that another day.)

    Today has been spent with the piece above.  It's about Blue, who was home for much of the last week.  All of the cloths in this piece are also in blankets that I've made for him over the years, starting with the rose print flannel that his first baby blanket was made from, his "Rosie."

    And looking at this cloth made ten years ago... It's full of mama feelings for him, too.  When I was wanting to hold him wrapped in flannel within the safe bubble of home.  I wrote about it here.

    There was a thought of putting a home on the hill in the new cloth, too, but I realized that would be about me.  His world is much more than that.

    This morning he landed in Santiago, Chile where he and a friend are hoping to live for the next year.  The plan is to be English tutors and whatever other jobs they can find to make ends meet.

    He sent the view from his apartment a bit ago.

    I am holding all of the feelings... so happy and excited for him, proud of his risk taking, and a little sad to know he's so far away.  I wish a big blue wide world for him, knowing that we are still under the same moon together.

Many many moons & blessings

    It's all about moons lately... the moon and my Moon.

    Our Moon is wrapping up his senior year of high school.  Each day is a "Last Something-or-Other" it seems.  Tomorrow is his last in-person class in the school building, then a few more days of on-line, a couple of on-line AP tests, and an abbreviated distanced outdoor ceremony next week.

    This week has been all about the ending of his time with the theater group.  They have meant the world to him.  Finding this group his sophomore year finally gave him a place he felt he belonged.  It was the same for me forty years ago.

    Eleven years ago as Poseidon for an ancient Greece study...

    Last week as King Triton in "The Little Mermaid" school musical.  It's the same crown! (with the addition of shells).

    They did a wonderful job of creating this on-line musical.  Filming in their homes, parks, and a few at a time masked on stage.  I don't know how the editors put it all together?  My heart swelled every time he sang.

    I try not to talk about the fact that his mother has been saying "theater" to him most of his life.  This boy who loved costumes from the get-go, who loved all of the plays and dress up days of elementary school, and who chose the catcher position for baseball because it had the most involved uniform.  Of course, it took a girl to get him to finally audition.

    He's looking forward to the fall auditions at college.  I'm looking forward to seeing him in a musical in-person.

    I'm sorry that I've been absent, and have missed feeling connected... I'm hopeful that things will settle down and back into a routine soon.  There are more good things going on.  I'll share next time.

      This is "Winifred"- a name meaning blessed, joy and peace.  Such a good name!  She will be in the shop update on Tuesday.

    Wishing you all blessings, joy and peace.

More cake, rope & a boat

    This year's birthday season came to a close last night with German chocolate cake made by Moon and a family visit with virtual Blue.

    A new boat, sailing into, or with, springtime.

    I had forgotten some of the rope story...  It all started with this photo and a text from my brother to my sisters and me last April.  What you need to know:  My dad's name was Pat, both of them were in the volunteer fire department of our hometown, my brother's son (D) is now in one in his town, and that my family likes to tell stories.  Here's my brother's in his somewhat edited words...

    "Ok, good morning, prepare for some rambling, or delete now...  Couldn't sleep so have been cleaning shop since 5am and drinking COFFEE.  Weather has been 68-74 the last 10 days and thank goodness it's raining today- makes this quarantine more bearable?  At least it feels ok to sit in/at home.  Shop's clean, drawers organized, and drill bits all sharpened.

    "I said rambling right?  When I resigned from the fire department in February, after 35 years, I cleaned out my turnout pockets, came home and tossed it all in box."  ("turnouts" are what fire fighters call their uniform pants tucked into boots, partially turned inside out, with suspenders dangling on the sides, all standing ready to be stepped into and pulled on quickly.)

    "This morning in my puttering, I mean cleaning, I found I needed a section of rope to hang my gnomes on.  The ones I kept from Pat's (Dad's), as the original rope had rotted away (see photo).  I recalled my "turnout rope" (see photo).  Now you ask what is a turnout rope? 

    "Always carry a piece of rope in your turnouts, that way you'll have it when you need it," Pat-ism (Dad had A LOT of sayings).  To tie off a ladder, a hose or whatever.  On one call Pat borrowed my rope (guess who didn't have his), tied open a door, and let it get burned up when we were pulled out of the structure.

    So I proceeded to give him crap about my rope... And where was his rope?  We know who lost mine, etc.... 

    One drill night in a classroom, he sat and end braided a new section of rope.  Not quite half the class watched him- fascinated as they had never seen end braiding and they still weren't sure why or what he was doing?  Near the end of class Pat came over to me, in front of everyone, and handed it to me.

    "Your f---ing rope, don't lose it again!"  A good laugh.  It's still with me.

    It seems funny, I carried that simple piece of rope and used it Many times for 33 years.  I'll never need it for turnouts again.... Can't decide whether to hang the gnomes with it or....  D. can't use it as now everyone carries synthetic webbing....whatever.

    See rambling....simple things that somehow make us tick."

    Love this rope more and more.
 

Waterside gifts

    Dad's birthday was/is (?) the day before mine.  Something that I both loved and hated growing up.  Things were often tangled for me because of it.  The feelings about it all continued into adulthood, making the days leading up to my birthday hard (especially for those around me).  This year was the second one without him, it turns out that my pre-birthday angst doesn't require his physical presence.

    Those who know me best are used to it.  At least this year I saw it coming, headed most of it off at the pass by saying "Yes!" and "No." as needed and wanted, and in the end it was much shorter and less of everything than usual.  

    And yesterday began beautifully... 

    Sunrise.  For all kinds of reasons, the family celebration will be on Sunday, so at sunrise I headed to the ferry.

    Stepping onto the boat, stopping to snap this photo of the city, a ferry worker shouted at me to not stop there, to move to the other side.  I wanted to shout back at her, "Why are you yelling at me?!  It's 7:30 in the morning and it's my birthday!"  I just apologized and moved on.  She was just doing her job.

    The day was spent stitching and talking with my friend in her sweet little house again,

    Beside the bluebird figurine and watching the sparrows, chickadees and crows outside,  

    In a red velvet chair.

    Returning home last night there were surprises waiting in the mailbox.  Nancy kindly and thoughtfully sent a book who's title has often called to me, and now I'll finally be able to read.  The rope is from my brother.  Take note of the two ends, they were done by Dad.  

    A kind of knotting-weaving that secures the ends from fraying, and can create a strong loop.  I didn't know about this until my brother mentioned it in a conversation after Dad died.  I was fascinated, by the skill and the way it wove into Dad's story...  How in In the early years of Mom and Dad's marriage, with a new baby (me) and struggling to make ends meet... Dad would go down to the docks on the weekends to fish, and offer his knot making skills to other fishermen.  I can imagine him sitting there with his line in the river, while turning ropes into new tools and a few dollars.

    So things shifted this year.  Some anger and sadness set-aside, a few holes filled in with a little more forgiveness, understanding and story.  

    I'm so glad to have this, to be able to hold it and think of Dad making useful and beautiful things with his hands.

Quick catch-up & a deep Thank You

"Moonset"

    The edge of a napkin dyed by Deb made for a fabulous wave (& her purple cloth, too).

    So many nightmares- dead bodies, assaults, old jobs.

    Things are busy, mostly in my head, and computer time is more limited these days.  It seems that by the time K. is finished with it, it's too late for my eyes and brain.

    Working on Cameron's block.  This was hard to make- not my comfort zone in stitching, or the racism behind the symbol.  I sent Blue this photo saying that my making this was proof that the world's gone off kilter.  "Racist and sports?!"  He agreed.  But the Kansas City Chiefs were his favorite team.  There is a video of him having a great time at a game two days before he was killed.

    Moon was impressed that he actually recognized it, "You made these?!  Good job!"   Cameron was also known as a Chevy man.  I'm really looking forward to getting to the star stitching.

    The boys have had some growing pains this week.

    This little house in progress is love- in home, velvet and raw ragged stitching... started after talking to Blue yesterday.  After he said that he wanted to come home.  After I exclaimed, "Yes!  Just get on a plane, we'll figure the virus stuff out, just come home!"  Just wanting to wrap my arms around him.  And then sense kicked in (for him first). 

    While they grapple with big things and emotions, it's hard to remember that they're almost grown, 18 and 22, and there's not much we really can/should do except listen, and remind them that we're here and on their side.  I guess that I've had some growing pains, too.

    A couple of days ago it was this blog's ten year anniversary.  It was started with a wanting to be a part of Jude's Patchwork Beast workshop circle.  It's been a doorway to connection- with the circle, my making, and mostly myself.  Thank you for coming along on the journey.

Thirty-seven

    How I busied myself during an online meeting yesterday... and without any planning or counting at all, I think there are 37 loops here.

    And today is our 37th anniversary!  Back then, I never imagined being on this earth this long, let alone having such a good guy to be here with.  A sky full of lucky stars twinkles over us.

    There's a walk in the woods being thought about for this afternoon, and maybe some talk about which stars to follow next...

Holding

    This is an illustration by A. Scott Banfill from the picture book Whisper from the Woods written by Victoria Wirth.  It tells the story of the cycle of life of trees, how the forest tends and cares for each other.

    "In winter, asleep they'd stand, hand reached hand, roots gently touched underground."

    This book has been in my thoughts while stitching trees lately, especially this latest piece.  Since hearing about Michelle, even more.  Thinking about this community- how we enrich, tend and care for each other, how we hold each other, even though most of us have never met.  What this circle means... it changed my life...there aren't deep enough words.

    Holding love for Michelle's light and spirit, and for all of you.

Enough for now

    A few weeks ago, a friend shared something hard that is going on in her life.  This piece was started that afternoon.  The words "knowing" and "believing" went through my thoughts.  Knowing and believing that she will be ok, and wishing for her to know the same.  "You are a phoenix," I tell her.

    I say good things and really wrong things, and ask her to know that they all come from the same place of loving her.

    There was a struggle with this cloth, so many stitches were not right and pulled out.  I wanted it to be a beautiful glorious rising.  The threads, cloth, skill couldn't hold enough of what I wanted to say.  Sometimes there is no right, and all you can do is be there... and love.

    "Knowing & Believing... She Rose"

today

    "Moons of Happiness" Summer 2002, for my baby Moon.

    Today is his eighteenth birthday.  He's at a park this afternoon with his girlfriend and a couple of friends, just as he should be.  Although, there are masks and social distancing happening.  All he wants for his birthday is a hug from her (and a car), neither are likely to happen, poor guy.

    He was my Moominbaby.  We took him outside to see the moon the night he was born.

    These eyes, from the first moment.  He was born in a birthing tub, I meant to get out, but he came too fast.  I pulled him up to me, and he looked at me with them, and I knew he was intensely Himself, and a gift.

    I was right, about both things, and still, these eyes.