Markets & Merriment

It's that time again, the height of the season, and the" Maker's Markets" are popping up everywhere.


Here's to creative women, then and now.

The terminology has changed, but the heart of the matter is the same. We have "Markets" now, and we call ourselves "Makers." We have social media that spreads information farther and faster than the generation before us could imagine. I was a part of that past generation, and I'm still hanging on, a part of the present and current order.

There was no Pinterest or Instagram, but I always found inspiration. All year long I stacked up copies of McCall's Needlework & Crafts, Family Circle, and even Crafts Magazine, where I worked as an editor for a few years. There were some local "craft stores",  but the fabric stores and the local "Variety" stores were treasure troves of supplies.

We called our events bazaars, craft shows, festivals, and open house. We literally opened our own homes, after moving all of the furniture out of several rooms, and set up our wares on folding tables.



We smocked and we sewed and we quilted, oh the things we could sew and stuff. I especially remember the little, pinched faces of the dolls created with stuffing and pantyhose! We knitted, crocheted and embroidered. We painted, we carved and we cooked. Salt-dough ornaments were all the rage!

 We found the time in the afternoon when the kids were in school and the babies were napping. We found time after the rest of the family was tucked in for the night, when we would retreat to our dining room tables or our basement laundry rooms, and create until we couldn't keep our eyes open.

There was no end to our creativity and no stopping us, and somehow we also managed (most of the time) to love and feed our families, actually sitting down nearly every night together at the dinner table, clean our houses, volunteer at our schools and churches, and have fun.




We didn't have social media, but we had social networks just the same, and the word went out via posters, put up in the neighborhood grocery store, flyers passed out, blurbs in the School and Church newsletters, ads and feature stories in the local and community newspapers.

The once a year bazaar at Calvin Coolidge school was the pinnacle of all local events. After setting up our booths on Friday night in the gym, with the help of grumbling husbands, dads and available children, we proceeded to sell our wares all day Saturday. The PTA sold sloppy joes, chili, and hot dogs on the stage, and our toddlers ran around the school with a freedom they didn't usually have!


At the end of the day, we loaded up what was left and went home to count our money. On Sunday morning we went to church, thankful that we now could pay off our Christmas layaways. When the holidays were over, we started all over again.

I have arrived with a different focus today, and I find that painting and writing are the avenues of creativity I prefer to travel. It's been a wonderful journey all along the way, shared with many friends and fellow creatives. The journey continues . . . .

MOMENTS & MEMORIES

Shared with others, Memories and the gathering of children who lost their fathers in World War II.

The Moments were many and unforgettable.

With the words, “To care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow, and his orphan,” President Lincoln affirmed the government’s obligation to care for those injured during the war and to provide for the families of those who perished on the battlefield. Thus, some say, was the beginning of the label “War Orphan.” 

A wreath was placed in Arlington National Cemetery

 at the site of the AWON memorial tree.

So many years ago, our fathers left their country, their family, and everything they knew as secure and familiar. They left with the hope and the confidence that they would return, but only after they had done what needed to be done to keep the ones they left behind safe and free. 

Those who didn't return left behind a generation of children who would be called "war orphans."  We are still here, and we are committed to honoring our lost fathers, and keeping their memories alive for as long as we are alive. 

Arlington National Cemetery on a sunny September morning.

The World War II Memorial,  

the site of a special celebration of our fathers at the 

AWON  Gala 2018.

Working on illustrations for the memoir 

I am writing about my father and me.