+ Her Barefoot Heart

Category: Blog (Page 60 of 101)

News of The 70273 Project with a side of Jeanne’s Barefoot Heart

What’ll Ya Have: Knee Jerk Reactions or Thoughtfully-Made Responses?

What happened in Aurora, Colorado last night is atrocious, infuriating, scary as hell, and I know it brings up all sorts of things in each one of us. My son, for example, has friends who were at that very theater earlier last night to see a different movie. They left the movie, walking past the lines of customers in costumes waiting to enter. Whether we know anybody that closely involved or not, there’s the stone cold it-could-have-been-us-or-someone-we-love realization that takes shape in a host of ways. Some of us will immediately think of how we want guns outlawed, others how we want the government to keep its hands off our weapons. Some will look to the government to initiate security measures to protect moviegoers everywhere, others will dread that further intrusion into our lives. Some will cry for the shooter to be brought swiftly to justice, others will send prayers for him and his family. Some will sit down in stunned silence and try to take it all in, others will head straight to the keyboard to post their ire and promote their causes. Some of us will feel all these things.

Questions will be raised, answers will be sought. Fists will be waved, hugs will be given. There’s no doubt about that – and those questions, those conversations, those hugs might ultimately be the long-term value we glean from such an atrocious act.

There’s a difference between being an opportunist and being an activist, I’m thinking, a fine line of difference with big implications. Instead of feeding on the frenzy we are reading and hearing, could we listen to news reports with a grain of salt and remember that they are getting information from a variety of sources and that they make money by capturing our attention? Instead of using this distressing-beyond-description event as a platform to gain votes or support for our causes, could we show respect by focusing on the personal loss sustained last night? Instead of thumping our chests, could we light a candle in remembrance of those who lost their lives, in support of those who were injured, in support of the families and friends involved? Instead of waving our placards in hopes of media coverage, could we say a prayer for those who were injured and the medical staff treating them?

The causes will be there months from now, but the people could sure use our heartfelt attention right now.

Maybe you don’t live close enough to commit a tangible act of support that directly benefits those involved, but good energy has far-reaching effects. Maybe you could take a meal to someone living near you who is tired from trekking back and forth to cancer treatments. Maybe you could find a nearby blood drive and make a donation. Maybe you could honor a pet who lost someone special last night by adopting a pet at a local shelter or making a financial donation. Maybe you could brush your teeth and hair and go share a glass of sweet tea on the front porch with neighbors you always say you wish you saw more often.

This is a heinous act for which adequate adjectives have not been invented. Let’s let it fuel us, but let’s not let it divide us. Let’s let it change us, but let’s not let it hold us hostage. Let’s let it motivate us to get creative in finding ways to show we care. Let’s let it encourage us to pay more attention to those around us. Let’s let it make us determined to create a world we want to live in, a world where we and those we love can continue to wander out in search of entertainment and enjoyment without fear.

19

Nancy’s drawing (made with 2 pen strokes):

NancyFriday019

My re-creation in stitch:

19c

Today Nancy’s art became a bib
or maybe a tie for
Spring Chicken.
He is part of the menagerie I call
my yard jewelry.

19a

~~~~~~~~~

She draws, I stitch.
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 and read your way current.

18

Nancy’s original drawing:

NancyFriday018

and my re-creation in stitch:

18

I ordered a large ledger book. 300 pages, 11 x 14 in size. I thought I could use it as a sort of linen press, putting one cloth between each page to keep them flat and clean. The ledger book came today, and while it’s beautiful (I’ve never yet met a blank book I don’t love), my idea isn’t going to work, so back it goes. Oh well. I ‘spect two thick pieces of cardboard and about a yard of colorful ribbon will do just as nicely.

There are 5 separate pen strokes in this drawing.

~~~~~~~~~

She draws, I stitch.
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 and read your way current.

17

Nancy’s original drawing (made using 2 pen strokes):

NancyFriday017

my re-creation:

17b

Stitched this one while watching a documentary on World War II and how the Nazis exterminated people like Nancy because of their imperfections. The intent was to create a pure and superior Aryan race, but of course the Nazis dressed their depravity in a pretty dress. Said it was a humane thing they were doing, to put these precious spirits out of the misery of having to live with their deformities. And hey, it was not just the Nazis who felt this way. History shows this was the prevailing scientific, medical, and cultural thinking long before Hitler came to power. It was quite chilling, actually, to be watching this show while stitching Nancy’s drawings. And maddening – oh my goodness, it was maddening beyond description. I think not just about history, but of all the alien movies and wars and feuds, and I wonder: when will we – will we ever – stop being afraid of those who are different? Will we ever open ourselves to learning from those who are different? Will we ever stop conquering, dismissing, and exterminating just because someone doesn’t look or sound like us? Just wonderin’.

And wishin’.

~~~~~~~~~

She draws, I stitch.
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 and read your way current.

16

Nancy’s original drawing:
(The lighter lines and “freckles” are bleed through from the previous page. There are 4 pen strokes in this drawing.)

NancyFriday016

my recreation in stitch:

16

Three days ago, Nancy was at the dentist, and when the burr being used on her teeth went missing, she was whisked to the ER for x-rays to determine if she’d swallowed it. Nothing showed up, and last we heard, she was back home enjoying hamburgers for supper. Such is the way of our Nancy who can’t tell you in words that something hurts or point to where something is amiss or feeling different in her body. She doesn’t run a fever either, which can make it quite interesting when things go awry physiologically.

~~~~~~~~~

She draws, I stitch.
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 and read your way current.

15

the original drawing:

NancyFriday015

the recreation in stitch:

15b

I thought you might like to see the original drawing and the cloth version. Maybe I’ll go back and add the original drawings to the previous posts and include it from here on out. Nancy flew through the 14 pages left in my small, pocketbook-size journal. I happened to have this promotional notepad in my pocketbook, and she quickly filled it up, too. The womanchild was on fire, I tell you. I couldn’t keep blank pages in front of her. This is the only two-color drawing she did, and I opted to stitch it only in purple because I want the focus to be on the message she’s conveying, the story she’s telling, the conversation she is having.

~~~~~~~~~

She draws, I stitch.
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 and read your way current.

pressing

Iron1

My mother prides herself on her ironing prowess and that just tickles me. Not tickles me as in poking fun, but tickles me as in I find it touching.

I remember grandmother washing clothes in that pink and white washing machine, running them through the wringer a time or two to get out the excess water, then hanging them on the line to dry. There’s nothing that smells as good to me as sheets dried in sunshine. She put granddaddy’s khaki pants on stretcher bar contraptions, but they still needed ironing, so she’d bring them in, sprinkle them with water, roll them up, and put them in the back of the refrigerator to wait till she had time to press them.

Sometimes I think I got this feminist thing all mixed-up. At least parts of it. Maybe it was nice when there was a division of duties, of chores, of responsibilities. When the woman took care of everything inside and just outside the walls of the house while the man took care of everything beyond that. Maybe it was easier somehow when she didn’t feel the need to assume responsibility for every single thing.

Maybe i’m kidding myself.

The women in my family – my mother and her mother – took pride in the cooking and ironing and sewing they did, in the flowers they planted from seeds and cuttings swapped with friends, in the tables they set and the music they made. Maybe – and this may be the most important maybe of all – maybe it was enough that they felt that pride themselves, that they didn’t look outside and want, expect, demand others take pride in their accomplishments and declare them worthy. Self-satisfaction. Maybe that was plenty.

I’m doing this project, recreating in stitch some 167 drawings made by my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy. The cloth was puckering up a little bit, so a friend suggested I lightly starch the fabric – which I did yesterday, and it has made a world of difference in the way the cloth looks fresher, prouder. Got me remembering, too.

Ironing’ll do that.

14

First comes her drawing:

1 14 6

Then comes my stitching:

14

Stitched this one as my daughter and I sat and watched a movie around dark: thirty. Got the starch while on an outing today, and it does make a difference, but I still need/want to restitch the first 11 drawings because I’ve changed the stitch I use, and this new stitch works eversomuch better. Starched, ironed, snapped and uploaded new photos of 1-14 out by the falls today, but it was dusk, and the quality of the photos still isn’t very good. Oh, fiddle-dee-dee, I’ll do something about that tomorrow. Or next week.

(p.s. This one kinda’ makes me think of Julius Caesar.)

(p.s.2: There are 6 pen strokes in this drawing.)

~~~~~~~~~

She draws, I stitch.
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 and read your way current.

13

She draws:

1 13 2

Then I stitch:

13

i promise
cross my heart
and hope to die
(which never sounded quite so
seriously serious
before now when
i’ve gotten a bit of
age on me.
age that makes me quite fluent
in worry)
that on sunday,
if not tomorrow night,
i am going to lightly starch,
iron, and find better lighting
to snap new photos.
then i think we’ll
really be cooking with gas.

(There are 2 pen strokes in this drawing.)

~~~~~~~~~

She draws, I stitch.
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 and read your way current.

12

She draws (using 2 pen strokes here):

1 12 2

Then I stitch:

12

Stitched this one as
my daughter and I
rode back up the mountain
this afternoon.
(She drove.)
Spent last weekend with my son,
this weekend with my daughter.
Sweetness.

~~~~~~~~~

She draws, I stitch.
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 and read your way current.

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