Page 10 - Demo

Aunt Betty%u2019s parents%u2019 personalities were very much like her own%u2014except they neither smoked nor drank. I was especially impressed by a huge room built on one side of the house that held several floor looms of different styles and sizes. I learned that, in the basement, there were a number of lathes where Uncle Lee made wooden bowls. However, I was never invited to see his workshop%u2014probably because I was a girl. However, his work was displayed around their house, so I got to see his imaginative skill with maple, birch, and other woods. What an truly wonderful way to live, I thought. Their abundant creativity, and love for each other, was present everywhere.During my childhood, my family attended the local Evangelical Lutheran Church, but I never got much out of going there. My father was a deacon who went downstairs with the other deacons for coffee and donuts while the rest of us sat on a hard oak pew for nearly an hour. He made only a brief appearance in the sanctuary, passing around one of the collection plates. For my mother, these weekly trips to church were something required of all good society members, and they must be endured without comment.Before her marriage, my mother had been a Christian Scientist. One of the few facts she shared from her past was that she and her own mother had once visited the Mother Church in Boston. To me, no type of formal religion made much sense. I particularly disliked having to dress up with white gloves, mingle with the large crowd of people, and shake hands with the minister at the end of the service%u2014especially after his uninspiring sermons. I didn%u2019t seem to be learning anything relevant, or even believable, in church%u2014and I could not see the point of all the rigmarole. But, as a good girl, I went, and held my tongue.One year, when I was a teen, we started going to a series of casual, Wednesdayevening church services during Lent. Surprisingly, right next to the pastor was a professional artist. I think he may have worked in advertising, but whatever his background, he stood at an easel confidently sketching with colored chalks. At the end of each mid-week sermon, the artist proudly showed his completed drawing illustrating the sermon we%u2019d just heard. But then, he would turn the drawing upside-down, and an entirely different scene was revealed! It was so much fun and unexpected. At one point, I saw that he had made faint pencil lines on the white paper before coming to church. So, his magic required some careful preparation. when I studied art history%u2014I thought it was reminiscent of Calder%u2019s or Klee%u2019s work. I was also impressed by a large oil painting the couple had recently commissioned, which depicted a favorite outdoor scene they both had always enjoyed. The brushwork was so fresh and energetic on the grasses making up a large field in the foreground. It was a tamer version of how Van Gogh would have done it. I have no idea who the artist was, but he was very talented.Sadly, because of my mother%u2019s possessiveness, I never really had a chance to become close to these new relatives. Then, after a few years, Aunt Betty died when her breast cancer returned, after having long been in remission. But, from the few times I was at her home, I knew that she grew peanuts, as well as grapes to make jelly and juice. And she created purses, tote bags, braided rugs, and did original needlepoint. Plus, she fashioned pillows and slipcovers from fabric her mother (%u201cAunt Margaret%u201d) had hand-loomed. She was always making something interesting.Unexpectedly, at least to me, on one occasion before Aunt Betty%u2019s death, we went to stay overnight at Aunt Margaret%u2019s and Uncle Lee%u2019s home which was known as Forty Acres. It was quite some distance away, on the other side of the state. Rural, wooded, with a small lake (shared only with dairy cows on its far side), a rambling ranch home, and a real bunkhouse, their place was so beautiful it was worth the long ride. My mother mentioned that she had stayed there as a girl, but never said how many times, whether it was once or on several occasions. Our own brief overnight visit was the first and only time our family stayed with anyone.Hand-built ceramic jug. 1970Sterling-silver brooch and ring. 1970