No politics… just yarn, beads, memories, and love.

For just a few minutes, I had to take my mind off the demise of Democracy. So I opened my mother's cedar chest to remind me of my roots.

This is Essay #115

The digital drumbeat of America’s collapse is really taking its toll on me. 😳 And probably you as well. I dug into my massive collection of pictures and I found something that took me way back. It was as if the women in my family were reaching out to me.

If you even know what a cedar chest is, or if you’ve ever been in a Ben Franklin store, you get some bonus points. 😂 As the country self destructs, I needed this walk down memory lane. Walk with me. Thanks for being here… it means more than you know.

Growing up, this was off limits. But when mom opened the lid, the room was filled with the powerful scent of cedar.

“It protects the clothes from moths”, she would say.

Her cedar chest was a high school graduation gift, given to her in 1953 by her grandmother, Mae. It was reserved only for her. Even my father never looked inside. This was where she stored her fabrics and yarn, wool coats and sweaters, photos, comforters, and souvenirs.

Special, personal things.

And growing up, it served as a sort of weather report, a sign of what she planned to do.

For example, there was a pink, lightly knitted sweater tucked inside, almost thread bare. When she retrieved it, I knew she had a bad headache… she would wrap it tightly around her head and take a nap.

After my mother died, this precious piece of furniture came to my house. I opened the lid, and instantly, the smell of my childhood filled the room.

I found reminders of the many hobbies enjoyed by the women in my family. Activities I had no ambition for. Like this.

Not my style. At the time, I thought all this was nonsense. Today, I feel badly for turning up my nose at their creations. Because I was desperately missing the point. It wasn’t the item.

It was the process of making it.

When they were together, my mother, grandmother, and aunt would talk incessantly, laughing and giggling about their treasures like robbers over a bank heist. They would share the latest craft magazine, talk about the two yards of silk fabric they bought to make a blouse, or how they found just enough yarn on sale at Ben Franklin to knit a scarf.

Me? I couldn’t sew a button on my pants. Nor did I have the desire.

Not a bead was wasted. Not a scrap of fabric was thrown away. Cookie tins were full of buttons that didn’t match. Bits of plastic canvas and yarn were made into Christmas ornaments.

What the cedar chest did contain was something I inherited from these women. Their curiosity and creativity.

Everyone seems to have this innate desire to create. Just look at Etsy and see the incredible talent of the makers there. (Etsy.com is where we should all be spending our money… support the makers and the artists!)

Given the current climate in America, I would say the need to express yourself has never been stronger.

Even crocheted toilet paper holders are making a comeback. 😂

Courtesy of Etsy.

Amid the old photos, mom had started something and never finished it. Maybe she had lost the inspiration to finish and put it away for another attempt at a later time. (Check that top photo, tho! ❤️ Mom and her twin sister with my oh-so-awesome grandparents.)

I wish I knew what she was making here. :(

Any creative endeavor is good for you. It doesn’t matter if you’re good… what’s important is the effort. Being creative is calming and gives you self-confidence. The repetitive nature of knitting is almost like meditation. And there’s a feeling of self-satisfaction. “I DID THAT!”

My friend, now in his late 70’s, had a successful career as a Director of Photography in the advertising business, working on national projects. Now, he’s a woodworker, crafting custom furniture and sculpture. The wood shop is his happy place, tools are his passion, and he’s quite good. He’s also learning and problem solving, which is incredibly empowering.

Hell, even the cave men were doing art… like this 30,000-year-old hyena painting found in the Chauvet Cave, France. There are many other examples even older than this.

I’ve always wanted to____________.

Fill in the blank! Play your guitar. Do your watercolor. Start some seeds for spring. Bake something for your neighbor. Write that novel. Take up knitting.

I’m going to keep writing and taking pictures and being curious.

It’s what my mom and grandmother would have wanted, even if I don’t knit!.

Tell me what you create… or what you’d like to try. The time will never be ‘just right’. Why not now?

Thanks for being here. Love you guys! 💙✌️