So many of us can thank our mothers for introducing us to activities that seem second nature to us now. Whether it’s sewing, quilting, knitting, crochet or embroidery, our moms taught us the basics of those crafts and others. My lessons from Mom were no exception. She felt that if we could find creativity in every day, we could solve problems that life presented. We could also have a personal haven – a place to be ourselves and make something with meaning for us.
My mom’s story is like many. She grew up during the Great Depression when being creative was sometimes an act of survival. She was fortunate that her father could support the family, but he did so as a merchant mariner. While he was at sea between the Pacific Northwest and Asia, my grandmother and her two daughters became Team Jones Girls to make life work. They stitched – and they wielded a hammer when they needed to. Mom was a maker from toddlerhood.
What I remember most about Mom’s making is how she involved us kids. Not in a “Sit down and do this and don’t bother me” kind of way, but with a more “Oh, that looks like fun – let’s try it!” vibe. And it was okay if it was messy. We made taffy and pulled it by hand. We painted with watercolors. Reader’s Digests (dating myself) became folded sculptured trees that we painted green and decorated at Christmas. We covered the kitchen table with oilcloth and turned it into a pottery studio with a block of real potter’s clay. We didn’t have a pottery wheel, so we hand-formed and slab-built ashtrays (because they were a thing then) and bowls. Then we took them to a local community center for kiln firing. Paint-by-number was big, as well as just going to town on a blank canvas.
With encouragement every step of the way, each of us found a niche or three that we truly loved. Mom framed one of my 9-year-old-child tempura-on-construction paper “masterpieces” and displayed it every Christmas, much to my embarrassment when I was a teenager. But her pride in what created and her joy in sharing it with everyone who entered our home taught me that I could indeed create something original and that my work had value. I channel that into my quilting, sewing and jewelry making. And I now hang that painting over my own fireplace every Christmas.
Every night I fall asleep under a quilt that I made for Mom. I haven’t made homemade taffy in years, but I have a young grandson, and when he is old enough, we’ll get messy and have ourselves a time!
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