brothers

The starting line and more questions

August 4, 2018 by Jo Leave a Comment

Ever since I was a little kid, participating in end of school year races, officially called Field Day, I wanted to win. Somewhere there was (is?) a photo of me on my 10th birthday, my mom had baked 4 sheet cakes and made me this giant birthday cake for all the 4, 5, and 6 graders. It was embarrassing and awesome all at once. I won a lot of ribbons sprinting. I was probably good at it because most of childhood included hours chasing, and running from, my brothers.

Question 1: Ever spent hours down THAT rabbit hole searching for the one perfect picture, only to surface hours later empty handed, head swimming in the past?

Question 2: Turning double nickels this last spring, I find sometimes it is hard to admit that I don’t have answers to all the questions I hear internally and externally. Is it a personality trait or stubbornness or just human nature?

And still, there is a starting line. I find myself over and over again, right toe forward smudged into the chalk line drawn in the grass, shoulders leaning forward waiting for the beginning, only to realize that I am always at the beginning. Right here, right now I have a new start. I am anxious and nervous to remind myself, “I am a beginner. This is a new situation with the individuals in front of me, it is ok that I don’t have answers to the questions swirling in my head. There is always room for a new 1st time.”

I can be a beginner.

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Boys will be Boys

February 3, 2018 by Jo 2 Comments

I jumped into a Facebook chain recently started by a high school friend of my brother. It was a two sentence, derogatory, public statement that threw shade on said brother. Comments built in the feed that included much Loop bravado. I added to the mix, initially being the only female to participate, and was quickly directed to ‘calm down.’

I’ve always been proud of the road were I grew up. Being a Loop kid has anchored me in a way maybe only others from the ‘hood would understand. We knew everybody, everybody knew us. My older brothers had a least 10 different friends from our street. When you grow up with so many boys, (because where there are 4 boys, there is always an extra at the dinner table, one sleeping on the coach, or 5 more playing pool in the basement) you learn to relate on a male level.

Guys let things go. They can be yelling at each other, maybe even throwing a few punches and then moments later start back to playing Monopoly. Mean things can be said without judgment; maybe even soliciting verbal applause for being spoke out loud. Other fellas can pile on to the onslaught of callous banter and relationships still stay intact.

In some ways, I was surprised at the Facebook scolding. Why couldn’t I bluster a little? It was like I was back in 1978 instead of 2018; 2018 where women are encouraged speak their mind, tell some truth.

Side note: It’s not always a positive to live in such a close-knit community. The summer I was 13 I came down with mononucleosis. Is Mono still called the kissing disease? The 14-year-old boy a ½ block away came down with the same thing. STILL NO, Craig and I never locked lips.

EW. Double EW.

Anyway, It’s going to take more than a hashtag # for stereotypes, biases and knee jerk reactions to change. Men and women: we think differently. After years of being in the power position, telling a woman to calm down (is that just a nice way of saying ‘shut up’?) while continuing to let the men carry on the conversation comes naturally.

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Have you tucked your dreams away?

February 25, 2016 by Jo Leave a Comment

Corduroy bellbottoms made by my mom, 1972 (Matching gold vest next to my flowered coat) — Corduroy bellbottoms made by my mom, 1972

When I was young my mom made most all of my clothes. If not, they usually came from the Goodwill. From about age 7, I begged her to teach me how to sew. I really wanted to learn how to run that sewing machine. She was so good at it, yet she always said she wasn’t; that it was her mom that was the real seamstress.

Brothers Bill, Tim, Keith, my Mom. Shirts made by her mom.

So, yep, I can sew. Nope, I don’t make any of my own clothes. I used to, before fabric became more expensive than ready-made. Now I only dust off my sewing machine (a high school graduation gift) to hem a pair of pants or make a quick alteration. The last large sewing project was making a slipcover for a chair. Before that, I made matching clothes for my daughter and her dolls.

I’ve always loved the hand sewing part of finishing a project. For a while I wanted to be a quilter. I was inspired by some amazing quilts made by my Aunt Marni. I bought a few basic supplies like a cutting wheel and quilting square, but never did make a quilt. Now, years later, as I am donating those items, I realize I was fantasizing about being an awesome quilt maker. I really never wanted to go to all the work required to make that quilt happen, I just wanted the beautiful quilt.

So how about you? Do have a fantasy of who you want to be; yet reality is you haven’t put in the work? Are you ok with letting it go?

No quilt guilt for me.

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