From Mensagenda — February 2006

I’m Sew Lucky

"You’re so lucky you can sew." It would be impossible to count the number of times I’ve heard that phrase. But my internal response, rarely voiced, is "What’s luck got to do with it?"

Sewing, like writing, isn’t a feature one is born with nor a prize that is won. It’s a skill, developed over time (in this case both skills have been "in development" for 45 years), not an attribute a person suddenly has upon waking one day.

Both are a curse to those of us unable to stay focused on any one task for more than a few minutes at a time.

If I had to follow the instructions that come with a sewing pattern, I’d never get anything done. It’s ever so much more productive to give the "rules" a quick glance, announce to myself, "Well, I’m not going to do it that way," and proceed in my own manner.

With writing, if I had to follow correct procedure — 1. outline, 2. rough draft, 3. final draft — you’d not be reading this because I’d have lost interest and be off reading a magazine long before I had a finished column. First draft = only draft. What I write is what you get. (This is a 30-minute column — a stretch for my attention span, but I need only do it monthly.)

The down side to all of this is the litter of unfinished projects that accumulate over the decades. What to do now with that box of rust-colored corduroy? Is the first chapter of a novel begun in 1992 worth resolving by writing chapters 2–25 in 2006?

The up side is that long dwell periods don’t seem to make my skills rusty. I wrote columns and edited my HS paper until I graduated in ’73, and then didn’t write columns again until I began this series in January ’99. I took quilting classes from 1975 to 77, took a short break to have kids, and resumed in 2005.

And, every once-in-a-while, there is a cosmic convergence, where the sewing and writing planets line up and I get an opportunity to practice both at once. I just had such an experience when the Minnesota Quilters had me review new quilting books for the newsletter.

Taking as my mantra the chant "Stay On Task," I read and reviewed two books this month. It was an enormous achievement, as I know myself well enough that I feared I’d (1) read both, then not write, or (2) read one, misplace the other, or (3) read a bit of one or both, then forget I was supposed to do anything at all.

But I persevered. I read them, I wrote the reviews. Now all I needed to do was return the books. It would be easiest to just mail them back, but then I noticed that the recipient lived near (actually next door) to some kids I went to high school with.

What a perfect opportunity for a drive through the old neighborhoods! East on Larpenteur, past Debbie G’s house. She never did marry Paul C. Left on Hamline, past where Steve’s grandparents lived, they and the house long gone. Isn’t that lot valuable? Past Margaret J’s house. Is she still in Duluth? Right on Roselawn, past Linda B’s house. Her dad had Playboy magazines under the bed. And there on the right is Stacy H’s house where I went to Brownies and Girl Scouts after school for so many years.

And there, coming out of that house, is a elderly woman. Could it really be Mrs. H? Does she still live there after all these years? A quick U-turn, much to the dismay of the driver behind me, and I pulled into the driveway as she got in her car. I hopped out and approached her. "Are you Mrs. H?" She nodded and I continued, "I’m Karen B." Much hugging and blubbering and more hugging followed, while I thanked her profusely for all she had done for us girls. She protested, claiming she always felt she hadn’t done enough, but I assured her that my memories contradicted that claim, and that her example had motivated me to do the same for my children.

We rummaged for tissues and exchanged phone numbers. Stacy, imagine that, now lives in the town where I live.

We parted, she to do errands, me to return the books. But, if I didn’t sew and didn’t write and didn’t meander through Roseville due to my inability to stay focused on one street for more than 6 blocks, this reunion would not have transpired.

I’m so lucky I can sew.