histories

Histories, Knitting and Kindness.

| Betsy

The woman knitting above is Selma Miriam, a co-owner of the restaurant Bloodroot in Fairport, Connecticut. I had heard about Selma from my friend Dayna Mankowski, the Crafty Scientist, years ago and have been wanting to go to the restaurant ever since. After finding Bloodroot’s history and philosophy incredibly inspiring, I was saddened to read that someone recently broke in and robbed the restaurant. And to add insult to injury, they stole Selma’s knitting bag, but not until after she bravely tried to get it back… from an armed man. She’s offering a reward for its return as it (and the contents) hold memories of her work with fiber, scissors from one trip, yarn from another. The bag itself is a creation of Selma’s, and I was touched by this article** as she explains why she wants the bag back. You can read more about Selma over here, too.

Reading about Selma’s love for all those individual supplies and what they mean to her, makes me ask myself some questions. What would happen if someone stole your knitting/craft bag? What would be lost? Would you pay to get it back? As currently, my knitting projects are taking over my house and not my handbag, I don’t have to answer those questions today, thankfully. I’m crossing my fingers that someone returns Selma’s bag with its contents in full, not for the reward, but because it’s just the right thing to do. And thank you, Selma, for living a life true to your ideals, full of creativity and completely immersed in kindness and love.


And lately, some interesting articles:
*Yoga for Crafters
*Africa’s first eco-town (made possible by microfinancing)
*Amnesty International trains young Moroccans in cyber-activism
*Fundraising + knitting: helping to buy livestock row by row (literally!)
*106, and still knitting for charity (Way to go, Olive, a true inspiration!)
*From a bank cubicle in London to a farm in Accra…for belief in microfinance

**This article isn’t linked because The Connecticut Post has taken this (a 2 month old story) offline. Although it can be purchased for $2.95. It’s a shame, too, as the article was well-written, and now the author won’t be getting much credit, given that you now have to pony up for each article. I understand why a publication would do this, but I also think that it’s no good for those who contribute to the paper. Lesson learned: Get a clip (.jpg or otherwise) of your work online, or else it may just disappear.

Finding Ground.

| Betsy

I’m grounded by history.

I’ve been reminded of this many times over the past few weeks as I discover Washington, DC. Passing signs to my father’s old high school, waving to my great-grandmother in Arlington Cemetery (she has a great view of the Pentagon, where her husband worked), hearing stories about my grandfather’s grandparents farm (now a park), hearing about how my grandfather would walk their pony to Tyson’s Corner to be reshod as there was a blacksmith there.

Lately the photo above has been a touchstone. When I was a kid, my grandmother used to tell me about how we were related to the sculptor Daniel Chester French. This photo reminds me of big dreams and creativity and a smidge of hope that it will all look as magical as conceived once fully constructed. I still haven’t found the building that housed the bakery my grandfather’s grandmother owned, but my grandmother has a map.

There’s something about knowing all of this that allows me to sink into the city more, wondering about how our genes and journeys will mix as I wander around eying old buildings and time-tested construction. After moving so often and taking so many trips far and wide, it’s nice to find a spot of ground that feels firm and real and solid under my feet. In thinking about the hopes and dreams and fears and loves and first crushes in my family’s lives as they strolled along these streets to the market, to work, to the doctor, to school, a sense of magic surrounds me. It may seem silly or impossible or mawkish to some, but after feeling so temporary and transient, here, for a moment, this sense of being grounded comforts me deep and true and completely.

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And for some crafty and otherwise creative links:
*Textile Encyclopedia*How to hem jeans in 3 easy steps
*The Newly Redesigned Mr. Xstitch! (Great job, Jamie!)
*Guide to Reading Japanese Crochet & Knitting Patterns
*Find where your clothes come from with the Baacode
*The Art of Manliness (Ok, not so crafty as interesting)
*Copenhagen Cyclic Chic (see how to bike in high heels)
*National Museum of African Art archives
*Make softies? How about making a few for Softies for Mirabel
*Awista Ayub’s However Tall the Mountain (what happens when young Afghan girls learn about soccer… and more)

Giving Permission and Paying Homage.

| Betsy

There is something about the delving into the past that is magic. Not the pulling rabbits out of hats, disappearing, shackling yourself underwater to a safe and then appearing at the surface magic. But magic in a sense more real. I found this magic the other week on the morning of July 4th walking through the cemetery of Christ Church in St. Simon’s Island, Georgia. My father and I went out to take photographs before it got too hot, and as usual, I was enchanted by its beauty and Spanish moss. Like all places of history, the South evokes it’s own individual memories in the way it takes you back through time making you crave lemonade, riding on horseback and hoop skirts.

This type of magic is infinite, and it holds with it a special kind of freedom. It holds a freedom where your creativity can move and writhe and grow and dream. I think this freedom is given to us by the past and the way in which it frees us from worrying if what we’re doing is cool or hip or meaningful or if our peers or families or friends will like it. It frees us from the “will it be enoughs?” by reminding us that we are on a continuum. That what we do today will always be eclipsed by something flashier or hipper tomorrow, but that doesn’t mean it still won’t stand to the test of time.

This type of magic gives us freedom to go forth without fear and create without the status quo in mind, allowing us to listen to our hearts and dreams instead of what’s on the front pages. It allows us to realize that we are okay and good and valuable just as we are right now, in the midst of all the dreams and hopes and creations of our ancestors. The past is truly our permission giver instead of our peers, as it knows that what you are thinking and doing and making will have been done in some sense before, you are just paying homage. I’ll take that magic over a good card trick any day.

The rest of the cemetery photos are here.

The Presents and The Past.

| Betsy

Lately, we’ve been all about presents around here. Presents for new puppies, new babies and old birthdays. I’ve been monopolizing a lot of time with my new main man, Ari, who is just over 8 weeks.

I was also extremely lucky to spend time with a genealogy book my grandmother made that goes back to the 1600s! So, along with new things, I’ve been hanging out with a few old things, too.

It’s amazing what new projects and ideas you can spark by changing your focus, even if for only a few minutes. Playing with Ari in the backyard, watching him play with his favorite toy (a giant warthog!) makes me think about being a little kid and how everything was new and exciting and things like stairs are the coolest thing ever. And these old photos have reminded me of histories and stories and fancy dresses and new discoveries in the world that must have delighted my family members on a regular basis.

What can inspire you that you might be overlooking? What does inspire you? I also have a new reading list of some amazing historical and textile things, but it will have to wait til later, my grandmother, lunch and new (yet old) stories await.