Sew Sew

 I do not sew. When I was a child my mother taught me to do embroidery which I also cannot do.

We had a sewing machine. It was the old kind operated by a treadle made by pumping it with your feet. I often used it to repair clothing. 

I also attempted to make clothes using it. I would be pumping the treadle and picking up a little speed when suddenly I made a mistake. I am naturally a calm and collected person. But I have been known to throw a tantrum and rip the cloth from the machine. The needle attached to the machine would come with it.

At school the 7th grade girls were required to take one semester of home economics. We learned to wash our hair, change our underwear daily, and arrange cut flowers. They also taught us to make a cake from scratch. Then we had to make a skirt.

The pattern for the skirt was simple. We cut a circle from our material then made a waist with a zipper.

 When I finished by hemming the skirt one side was at my ankle. The other side was just below my hip. How did that happen?

My 3 sons and my daughter all take care of mending their own clothes. My stitches do not hold. 

My mother, both of my sisters, and my daughter could all sew. It is not fair. But I am really good at changing my underwear.

Controversy

You may have noticed that I have not posted political subjects. That is on purpose. I do not want to insult anyone but my political feelings are none of your business.

I do have strong political convictions. I have participated in many local elections. I have demonstrated, conducted telephone polls, rung doorbells and of course I always vote. I have since I was old enough.

I am registered with a political party. However I do not necessarily vote the party line. I vote for the person I feel is the one who will try to accomplish the things I believe in. I have voted for members of the other party if I feel they are best qualified for the job.

Now I hear people saying that I should vote against a candidate that these people do not like. I never ever vote against someone. I only vote FOR people. If they are not what I wish for a particular position I will vote for a candidate who meets my criteria.

There is no person in this wonderful world with whom I agree all the time. I have my own mind and my own desires for this country. Yours may differ from mine. We are both entitled to our opinions. As long as you do not try to bulldoze me into agreeing with you we will get along.

I am happy to have pleasant debate about issues. A person may even cause me to change my mind. But force will not do it. Intellect might.

I tried to raise my children to think for themselves. I believe I was successful. Some of them have completely opposite views to mine.

As long as they have done their research and know what the candidates stand for that is fine with me.

Down

My brother-in-law and sister-in-law lived in a two-story house with a basement. In the basement was the washer and dryer. The bathroom was on the second floor.

The house was designed so a person would not have to carry dirty laundry to the basement from upstairs. There was a laundry chute in the bathroom. Dirty clothes were dropped into the chute upstairs into a bin in the basement. Easy to do.

At that time they had three children, two boys and a girl. All three of them were overly 'adventurous'.  It seemed they were always into something they should not have been. Perhaps my niece was worst of all.

One day she decided to take a trip down the laundry chute. She was small so there was little danger of her getting stuck. She did not.

However the chute was not smoothly finished. After all who would see it?

As my niece fell down the chute she discovered that although there were no nails sticking out to snag the clothes the ends of the nails were right at the surface. They took no pity on a little girl. And the wood was not smooth.

By the time my niece landed in the bin she was screaming in pain. No bones were broken. But she was covered and I do mean covered.in small cuts and scrapes. 

Needless to say she only put clothes in the chute after that.

Magic

 Do you believe in magic? Most people would say no. I believe.

When I am out for a drive to the top of a hill and see all the scenery I gasp. I can see farms, animals, and fields. Occasionally I see a stand of trees or a river. It is beautiful. It is magical. 

The tinkle of a toddler's laugh makes everyone laugh too. That is magic.

The clean sweet smell of a baby after its bath is magic.

Seeing a tree full of migrating birds stopping to rest is magic.

One day I watched thousands of little ants scurrying to some destination. I was fascinated. It was magic.

In the spring lilac bushes, jasmine, and honeysuckle magically fill the air with their lovely scents. Dandelions, crocus, and violets peep up to cover the ground with colors of magic. 

Fruit trees leafing then blooming are magic. Those blossoms becoming fruit that we can eat is magic.

Seeing a small herd of deer fills me with wonder. Seeing a flock of wild turkeys fills me with fascination. Seeing a herd of buffalo fills me with awe. I am in the presence of magic.

Snow and ice in the winter are magic. Special magic is reserved for a hoar frost. Everything looks like it has been covered in powdered sugar.

Even the occasional garden snake I find coiled in my yard is a magical creature. How do snakes move simply by wiggling?

Brussels sprouts. They taste so good. Along with other vegetables they magically nourish us.

Computers were science fiction when I was a child. Their magic is such that almost every home is now online.

Grass magically grows during the summer. It is enough that people mow their lawns every week.

Have you ever seen the wind blow so hard that trees bend over double? After the storm there stands the tree tall and proud. Magic.

I once saw a triple rainbow. My son took pictures of it. That is magic.

Mother and child. Father and child. Man and woman. Any two people who love each other are creating magic.

The fact that you are reading this is magic. I guess you believe too.

Tell Me A Story

Before humans had organized methods of writing there were storytellers. Depending on the culture they had different names. The Irish and Scots had The Seanachaidh. In India there were The Kathakar. The Skald told the tales of Norway and Iceland.

The storytellers of the area around Turkey and Iran were called The Ashik. In Japan there were The Hanashila. Central Europe relied on The Minstrels for their stories. The Griot told stories in Western Africa.

In Hawaii a person would tell the moʻolelo. Chants and hulas also convey the history of the islands. Native American tribes relied on the storytellers to keep their traditions.

Every culture had storytellers. They were necessary for members to learn their history. Of course there were often exaggerations. These built the heroes memories and gave birth to myths associated with each culture. The storytellers were honored and treated with reverence.

The Irish say that to know who you are you must first know who you come from. I believe that to be true. We are not all descended from royalty or great warriors but our ancestors were important. Without them we would not exist.

When I was a little girl I would quietly sit and listen to the adults telling stories of my ancestors. It was not only great fun but also I learned who I came from.

There are probably storytellers in your family...usually more than one. Learn from them. They are keeping your history alive.

Good Girl

Every so often during the day my son's Alexa will suddenly say, "Delilah. You're a good girl." Sometimes she will add, "Maybe even the best girl."

Delilah is his dog. The moment she hears her name she jumps up and runs to him to be petted.

It just shows that every vreature including us needs to be appreciated now and then.

Superman

I am a Daddy's girl. When Daddy was in the Navy during World War II he bought kimonos for his wife and little girl. He did not know either of us yet. I am the little girl he wanted and I have always felt special because of that.

Daddy was not perfect but I was a teenager before I knew that. He is close enough for me.

Daddy could build or fix anything. At one time he had a business. He was a plumber

. It seemed to be successful. His wanderlust kicked in and we moved.

He was town marshal in two small towns. In those little towns he was also dog catcher, water commissioner, jailer, and chief of the volunteer firemen. He used to come home with stray dogs. Or maybe he would have a bunny in his shirt pocket. We had great fun with the homeless animals he could not bring himself to destroy.

He was working for a farmer. One day Daddy was standing on the back of the tractor as the farmer backed up to hook up to a plow. Somehow Daddy's foot was struck in between the tractor and the tongue of the plow. His foot was broken.

Have you ever seen someone run over by a house? Daddy was working for the local house mover. People would buy a nice house and have it moved to another piece of land.

One day they were moving a house near to where we lived. Mom took us to the little country dirt road they would be travelling so we could see what he did for a living. They used back roads like that so they would not disrupt traffic. 

Daddy had a long pole with a forked end he used to hold power lines up so the house would pass without catching them. He was holding up power lines in the crossroad. The house was mounted on special little trailers and pulled by one of the big trucks. 

One of the trailers ran right over his foot! Luckily his foot was only pushed down into the deep loose dirt of the road. He was not hurt. 

We built a house for our family. A cement truck deposited cement for the floor of the basement. Daddy smoothed it all out and waited until it set. Then he built the foundation with cement blocks and cement he made himself.

Daddy did most of the work but we all helped. I can remember him telling me I used the hammer like a girl. He showed me the correct way to pound a nail. 

We all loved that house. It is one of two buildings that I feel strongly about. It still stands and I drive by every once in a while to say hello to it.

One summer Daddy took a job in Washington state. He worked on a dairy farm. There was another employee from Germany who spoke no English. He and my father worked well together. The man had a daughter about my age who went to the fields with them because she spoke English and could translate. Daddy arranged for me to go along to keep her company. I wish I had been smart enough to learn German from her.

While we lived there Daddy got real sick. He had the Asian flu. The doctor quarantined him to the boys' room. We were not allowed to see him at all. Poor Mom was the only one who could go in to see to his needs.

Daddy was alone in that room for about a month before we saw him again.

My father was a superman to survive all he did.

He did not have a happy home growing up. My grandfather was a drunk and my grandmother was not a loving person. Without an example of good parenting my father was a great father.

He volunteered to chaperone school functions. He umpired ball games for my brothers and uncles. He was a good man. And he was my Daddy.