She draws:
I stitch:
And it’s just too tired out tonight for me to say more.
~~~~~~~~~
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning.
Category: Blog (Page 48 of 101)
News of The 70273 Project with a side of Jeanne’s Barefoot Heart
Today’s Envoy, Noel writes:
I tried to think
where in the world I could take you,
in this city of big shoulders
and wide beaches and sparkling lights,
and over and over and over
I recalled my favorite place,
tucked in from the bustle
and the roar of the trains,
where there is time to sit
and breathe
and catch a prayer in your lap.
And where is Noel’s delightful secret spot? The Ann Sather Garden, a little community spot located right under the el tracks in the Uptown/Buena Park neighborhood of Chicago (about two blocks north of Wrigley Field!)
I’ve never met Noel in person, and yet I know her. Does that make sense? She is a woman of integrity, compassion, and crackerjack talent as a writer. Since first our paths crossed online about two-and-a-half years ago, I see her name come across my screen and I smile. Even before I read her words, I smile. Thank you, Noel, for being an Envoy despite all the crazymakings that have invaded your life lately.
~~~~~~~~~
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning.
Tonight’s cloth is in the talented and delightful hands of Nora Darling and Luiza Guimaraes. I first met Nora in October 2005 when she, along with her mother, Wendy and her sister, Diane, was in The Twilight Theatre’s inaugural production of Rodger’s and Hammerstein’s Sound of Music. Just had the good fortune to meet Luiza, a foreign exchange student from Brazil, tonight when I dropped by for a late and not-nearly-long-enough-but-is-there-ever-really-enough-time visit with Wendy . . . who happens to be flying to LA tomorrow to be in the audience for Dancing with the Stars. Yes, really.
(Wendy, remember what I told you: create a scene to attract the camera’s attention then wave to me.)
~~~~~~~~~
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning.
This is the last drawing in the 5th of 6 journals Nancy filled in June 2012
This is how it looks in stitch,
shown here with the delectables at City Cafe in Fayetteville, GA
where we went after Alison’s show tonight:
And here’s the sweet (and talented) one called Alison,
my daughter/Nancy’s niece,
also standing near the sweets.
It’s been a really sweet weekend so far.
~~~~~~~~~
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning.
We work hand-in-hand. Nancy draws:
Then I stitch:
When You Come to Love
by Ann Fisher-Wirth
When you come to love,
bring all you have.
Bring the milk in the jug,
the checked cloth on the table—
the conch that sang the sea
when you were small,
and your moonstone rings,
your dream of wolves,
your woven bracelets.
For the key to love is in the fire’s nest,
and the riddle of love is the hawk’s dropped feather.
Bring every bowl and ewer,
every cup and chalice, jar,
for love will fill them all-
And, dazzled with the day,
fold the sunlight in your sheets,
fold the smell of salt and leaves,
of summer, sweat, and roses,
to shake them out when you need them most,
For love is strong as death.
Tickled to be here today. Thank you, Ashley.
~~~~~~~~~
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning.
Here’s what Nancy drew on the 131st sheet of paper:
and the 131st stitching I did on cloth:
I tell you, the more I think,
the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic
than to love people.
~ Vincent van Gogh ~
~~~~~~~~~
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning.
She draws:
Then I stitch:
Mix red and blue, you get purple. (This is not a political statement, by the way.) In horticultural circles, purple is called “blue” or “horticultural blue”. In World War II, the Japanese used a secret code called the Purple Code. They didn’t know till after the fact that Allied cryptographers had broken the code. Purple auras represent a love of ritual and ceremony. In the Star Trek universe, Klingons had purple blood. Once upon a time, purple was reserved for royalty. In liturgical terms, purple is the color of Advent, a season of looking forward, of anticipating. In this project, purple represents Nancy’s favorite color.
There’s no purple, that’s true, but driving through these mountains we now call home is like driving through a box of crayons
through a painter’s palette
through a basket of fabric scraps.
~~~~~~~~~
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning.
The dahlias waited till the very last minute to get all dressed up and flaunt their beauty.
Such delicate beauty that unfolds
and unfolds
seems a perfect companion to Nancy’s drawing.
The touch of the natural and timely frost
creates a stained and withered look, a natural and timely beauty.
Next year we will plant them in a different place,
a spot that’s easier to get to, perhaps.
We will put them in the ground earlier
and we will get sturdier, taller stakes to support their sizable blooms.
We are learning.
~~~~~~~~~
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning.
Once upon a time
there was A Wee Small Palace
(because Palaces come in all sizes, you know)
perched at the tiptop of a mountain.
Though nice enough by certain standards,
it was considered A Palace
because of the waterfall on which it sat.
A waterfall that went down
and down
and down
all the way into a magical lake.
Inside The Wee Small Palace,
two kitties lived side by side.
Though he could fool you because he primped a lot,
obviously concerned with his appearance,
the one named God
(which is dog spelled backwards, you know)
could be a bit of a bully.
Even in her beautiful coat of many colors,
our girl Pipp
was skittish of anything that breathed
(which often made her the perfect target for God.)
Despite her generalized and pervasive cautiousness,
Miss Pipp did love and trust one person:
the woman called Jeanne,
often showing her affection
by running figure 8’s around Jeanne’s feet,
something that caused Jeanne to stumble
and trip
and cuss.
Though annoyed at not being able to walk
through her own house without incident,
Jeanne knew that as a baby,
Miss Pipp was attacked by a predator,
and she just always assumed
that the memory of that
rendered Miss Pipp unable to play
or love
or be loved
in the usual sense.
One gloriously temperate fall day,
our Miss Pipp was so besotted
that her figure 8’s took her right ouside with Jeanne,
an act that surprised everybody,
including Miss Pipp.
As Miss Pipp walked around,
trying to get her bearings,
it became increasingly obvious that God was not just surprised,
God was annoyed.
God was upset.
God was quite possibly even concerned.
“Maybe you haven’t noticed,
but MISS PIPP IS OUTSIDE.
This is not good.
This is not right.
DO SOMETHING,”
God begged Jeanne repeatedly.
Jeanne,
whom God now considered an Absolute Fool,
simply went to fetch her camera.
God paced
and he perched
and finally he just stopped and stared.
Once over her initial shock of being outside,
and realizing that God couldn’t get to her now,
Miss Pipp decided maybe it wasn’t so bad being outside and on her own.
She explored a bit
then she just laid down to enjoy catching a few rays
in her newfound peace.
Understanding how a girl often needs to be outside by herself,
Jeanne went back inside and set about doing the laundry.
Or something.
Eventually Miss Pipp knocked on the door
saying she was ready to come in now, please
and after an initial rumble
that sounded for all the world like God was saying
“WHAT ON EARTH POSSESSED YOU TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT?”
though it could have been that he was actually saying
“What was it like out there, Miss Pipp? Tell me everything”
sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference
between scolding and relief, you know,
the two kitties are back together again.
And while Miss Pipp
settles down by the warm breeze
from the ice maker
and dreams of being a jungle kitty,
God sleeps the sweet restorative sleep of knowing
that disaster was avoided
and all’s right in his world again.
The End.
Though maybe it’s really The Beginning . . .
Once upon a time, I learned hand-built and slab-work pottery from a fun and talented woman named Janet MacGregor Dunn in the cutest free-standing studio that her son built for her in her backyard. Every Monday morning would find us meeting there, closing the door, and slinging and shaping mud (both literally and figuratively). Though I never really got the hang of it, Janet works with the grace and near-nonchalance of a woman who is at one with the clay, a woman who mastered the basics long ago and shoved them aside to go beyond, way beyond. Be sure to poke around her online gallery, see where she’s going next, maybe snag a beauty or two for yourself or others. (Tis the season to be shopping, you know.)
I met Janet eons ago when we worked together on a fundraising event for the American Heart Association. Janet continues to be active in local fundraising events and art shows. She took her Nancy cloth with her to several art shows and asked fellow artists to hold it. They obliged, and I get goosebumps thinking about Nancy’s drawings being in the presence of professional artists (shown here in alphabetical order by first name because that’s the way my computer prefers it) like Janet and . . .
Allen Quandee
Bob McGill
Charles Pickney
Don McWhorter
Gary Curtis
Jesse Duke and Friend
John Martin
June Shellnut
Larry and Pamela Smith
Lynn Mersinger Reader
Marc Villanueva
Mary Lynne Robbins
Matt Bolton
One Ring at a Time
Patrick Henrickson
Paula Lansford
Randy Ayers
Sally Austin
Santoria Monica
The Living Sculpture
A heart Thank you to all you creative people and to you, Janet, for making this happen.
~~~~~~~~~
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning.
Ways to Donate
Donate through PayPal Giving Fund and PayPal pays the fees so your entire donation to The 70273 Project.
integrity
This work by Jeanne Hewell-Chambers is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at http://www.TheBarefootHeart.com.
here ‘n there