Jim Putnam - Thinking Through My Fingers

Quilt Trip

Some of our quilting group, the Village Quilters, had a field trip today.  Thirteen of us loaded into three vans this morning at 9:30 and drove to Wake Forest, NC, about 20 miles north of Raleigh to visit a quilting shop.  We visited "Quilts Like Crazy".  Here is a photo the shop owner took for us.

We had a fun day, beginning before we even left.  We met in the parking lot of the Fearrington Village Gathering Place.  While standing around prior to getting on the road, a guy walked by who several of us know.  Doug is a member of the golfing group, and, in fact, I will be in his foursome next Tuesday.  One of the ladies said to him, "We are Jim's harem."  I wasn't embarrassed, in fact enjoyed it because it shows the kind of relationship I enjoy with these ladies.  Doug laughed along with us.

Quilt shops are very similar to book stores for me, and for almost all of these ladies.  We can't go in one without spending money.  I bought some fabric, a book of patterns, and some hand blown glass buttons for Marrianna.  There was only one lady who walked out of the store without a bag of something or another.  One ordered a special cutting table to be shipped to her home.

The lady who owns the store is assisted by her daughters.  There are three of them, a 22 year old, and 18 or 19 year old twins.  Only one twin and the older girl were there when we arrived.  The 22 year old is paying her college tuition by machine quilting work of quilters who make the tops and, but don't enjoy quilting.  The twins begin nursing school in the fall.  I asked the one there if they had the quilting bug too, and they said they had acquired it at an early age.

After over two hours in the shop, we went to a small family restaurant for lunch.  The restaurant's name is "Big Boy Gyro", and I can't give a link because they don't have a web site.  Their gyros are excellent; more than excellent, superb.  The waitress and her husband operate the place.  I love gyros, though I haven't had a decent one since we left the DC area.  I also had a small piece of baklava, one of the most sinful, diet destroying desserts.  The lady makes it herself, and it's very good.  I may make the 50 minute drive again just for a gyro and baklava.  And of course, while I'm in the area I could go to "Quilts Like Crazy" too.

I had ordered baklava and fries extra.  When we got the check, the ladies wouldn't let those of us who drove pay.  I felt a bit guilty about ordering extra, but they insisted.  So I had a wonderful day, and lunch was free.  Life doesn't get better than the quilting life.

Writing

Marrianna subscribed to "Poets & Writers" (PW) as a gift to me.  It is published bi-monthly, and we received our first copy, March/April, 2008, earlier this week.  I've been reading portions, and so far I think it's interesting.  I am not about to call myself a writer, at least not in the sense that the magazine uses the title.  I do, however, hope to learn about writing, not so much to become published as to write clearly and well.

I believe many blogs are written casually, sometimes without structure and often with an overly personal, one person talking to another, tone.  There is nothing wrong with that, and there are certainly exceptions.  And most blogs are understandable and can make their point.

This issue of PW has as focus an interview with Tobias Wolff (print only); Spring Essence, a section of first look inside new books of poetry by some very big names in poetry (also print only), and a feature on agents and editors.

There are several poets, each represented by one poem.  Among the poets are Cornelius Eady, Jorie Graham, Mary Oliver, Charles Simic, and several others.  There were only two I thought good, Mary Oliver's "Small Bodies" and Charles Simic's "The Bather".  If you were to read the selection of seven poems those choices would tell volumes about the kind of poetry I like.

One of the poems, "This" by Jorie Graham, is probably one I would like more if read aloud, or printed differently.  To me, this poem is equally about how it is printed on the page and the words it contains.  The first two lines, or four depending on how they're counted, are:

Full moon, & the empty tree's branches - correction - the tree's
                                                                    branches
expose and recover it, suddenly, letting it drift and rise a bit then
                                                                    swathing it again

For my poetic taste, such as it is, these lines are wonderful imagery.  That's one core essence of poetry for me.  But, obviously the line breaks are intended to be seem on a page, and that trick detracts from the poem for me.  But Jorie Graham is, like Mary Oliver, a Pulitzer Prize winning poet, so what do I know.  I just don't believe a poem's power should depend on how it's printed.  I also do not like the use of "&" throughout the poem.  For some reason, it grates on my sensibility.  That's a usage appropriate for blogs, but not in a poem. Here I am, a very minor blog writer, critiquing a Pulitzer poet.  That certainly takes a full load of nerve.  I should stick to blogging.

There is an aptly, truly named article in the magazine, "Workshop:  A Rant Against Creative Writing Classes".  The author teaches creative writing.  The article has some level of accuracy working for it, but as with most rants, loses the message amongst the rant.  I read it, and actually recommend it, though more than once I wished I could have its author across a table from me so I could stop him before he utters another bit of nonsense.  Early in the article, just beginning his rant, he writes:

My truth, though, is not the one you’ve heard before. Creative writing workshops don’t, in my experience, churn out the same kind of writing. Nor do they encourage a personality cult centered on the instructor (on my weaker days, I wish). And they don’t destroy tender creative spirits. There’s no writer worth her salt who needs any help with self-destruction.

Those last two sentences raised an early barrier to my understanding, not impassable but very difficult.  An attitude like that certainly can help destroy a beginning writer's tender spirits.  And what's his justification for suddenly using the feminine "she" when he mentions tender creative spirits?  But, I persevered, and there are some good parts, worth thinking about.  Why, though, would an author not consider the audience more than this guy has?  One thing for certain; the magazine doesn't censor its articles to refrain from antagonizing their advertisers.  Many of the ads in the magazine are for creative writing workshops.

I do believe the magazine will be interesting to read, and will be used in my writing.  Thanks, Marrianna.

Caught In Gulliblity and Still Spouting Off

I had planned on writing about this video, spouting off about the trend to ask major questions of another on the stage of a major sporting event.  I had planned, but it seems, according to Sports Illustrated, it was a hoax, and there's no reason to get my shorts all twisted.

But I'm going to twist them anyway.  The fact that it's a hoax adds to my reasons to do so.   I watched the video, and immediately disagreed with Megan's "You'd think she'd say yes, and then tell him later . .".  Listen, the guy's a jerk, and that's putting it mildly.  If this were real, and it certainly seemed so to me, she could have done as Megan suggests.  If she had wanted to say yes, the proper reply would have been "Let's discuss this later."

Any man who would propose marriage on center court is either drunk, stupid, uncaring about her feelings, or some combination of all these.  Marriage is, or should be, entered into with a certain level of awe, because you are anticipating having this other as a life partner.  Such a momentous decision isn't to be approached as a publicity stunt.

Let me briefly discuss the idea that she should have accepted the ring, and later returned it in a more private setting.  That's just not acceptable for me.  He chose the public setting, and should receive a public reply.  There is no reason to spare his feelings, soften the impact of the rejection, or give him the benefit of even a few minutes of feeling that he had done something right.  Paraphrasing, live by the publicity stunt, die by the publicity stunt.

But it is all a hoax.  Good fun.  Right?  No, absolutely not.  Well, perhaps if the stadium announcer told the audience immediately after the act that it was an act, played as a joke by these two individuals, and it's probably necessary to tell the audience the names of the actors.  But, that didn't happen.  Therefore, some other jerk is going to think it's a great idea to propose to his girl in a grand, public manner. This madness is perpetuated.

And lastly, team, or perhaps stadium, management shows an appalling disregard for gender discrimination on display here.  The girl is a second class person in this scenario.  There's little appreciation for her sensitivities.  Instead, she is placed in a losing position.  There's a chance she knows what's coming, and has agreed to it beforehand, but to me, that is as bad.  She is a ploy in a publicity stunt either way, and using her in such a way is, I believe, degrading to all women.

I was gullible enough to believe it was real.  When I discovered it was a hoax, I felt foolish, and a little angry.  And now I've let my feelings out, and feel better for it.

Wanderings

I'm going to do my best to remove myself from political blogging.  All I know of politics I read elsewhere, and very seldom can add anything significant.  It's too difficult to sit at the keyboard and screen and have to think or another way to say I am worried about the state of our politics and nation.  Where I find myself most comfortable, and therefore enjoying blogging more, is in observing and commenting on whatever is around me.  I'm sure politics will force its way into the blog entries, but I'm not willing to spoil a day by bitching about politics and politicians.

Fearrington Village has a Folk Art show every February.   Marrianna and I enjoy walking through the exhibits, but as a rule folk art doesn't appeal to us.  If you move the mouse hand over the photos at the link you can see a sample of twelve of the artists.  This type of folk art isn't our style, but it's interesting looking at the work.

There are, however, a couple of artists that we like.  We've bought a couple of prints by Maurice Cook over the past couple of years.  He and his wife live in Birmingham, AL. and his art portrays black rural life in the South.  We bought a small original this year.  We probably would have bought another print, but the show manager began a new rule this year - no prints, original work only.  Their reasoning is that most of the folk art isn't reproducible and these artists thought they were at a disadvantage.  I can understand their reasoning, but I didn't like it very much.  It seems unnecessarily rigid to me.   Marrianna protested to management, so maybe they will rethink the rule for next year.

Little BS like that gets under my skin.  Yes, I can understand, but it seems to me they chose the wrong response to the artists who were complaining that the artists with prints had an unfair advantage.  Instead of implementing a rule restricting the artists, the reply could have been "Sorry.  Their medium lends itself to reproduction and your's doesn't.  Why should we restrict their market, when essentially you and the paint artists don't really attract the same kind of customer?"

But, that's why I'm not in charge.

I was proud of Marrianna going to management and complaining.  As much as I didn't like the rule, I just gripe and don't do anything to get it changed.  That is a major difference between she and me.  In another instance;  if I get a bad piece of fruit or vegetable at the grocer, I would throw it out and not say anything.  Marrianna takes it back and let's the store managers know that they have a problem. 
she says that without complaints, retailers don't know they have a problem, and that they appreciate being told.  That may be true, but I still don't like to complain.

I took the quilt to my quilt group this morning.  They liked it very much, and I'm grateful.  I asked for their advice on how to do the drop borders, showing them the fabric and how I thought I'd arrange it.   They discussed different methods for a while, and then by a consensus suggested I do it differently.  They are right, of course, and not only is their way going to look better, it's a bit more simple and therefore easier.

The lady in whose home we met this morning had some absolutely beautiful Mideastern rugs.  I commented on them, and she said that her husband had worked in the Mideast for years "setting up Universities."  They had lived in the Mideast for years.  I didn't dig any deeper, but that seems to me to be an ideal occupation.  Obviously the qualifications would be stringent, but the work must be very rewarding.  I was quite impressed.

I've wandered around for long enough.  It's time to close up and become a member of the family again.

Bridal Shower and Quilt Milestone

Marrianna co-hosted a bridal shower yesterday at our home for our nephew and his bride-to be, who are getting married in May .  This is a photo of the group of ladies taken just before the party was over on the front steps of our home. The bride and groom to-be are in the front of the photo.  His mother is just behind and slightly to his right, the photo left.  Her mother is two steps behind her, just behind the lady in the red dress.  Marrianna and the other co-host are on the top step.

As I said, I worked very diligently to get the quilt that is to be their wedding gift to a milestone for this shower.  I wanted to be able to show it to them, and also to ask for guidance on how it should be completed.  There are actually only two options, but I wanted them to make the choice.  This is a photo of the quilt top laid over the queen size bed in our guest room.  I removed all the decorative pillows to show it.

As you can see, the quilt top is almost exactly  the same size at the mattress.  For the quilt to be complete, there must be a drop over the sides.  In this case, it needs about a 15-16 inch drop on all four sides. The two ways of completing the quilt are to add another set of circles all around the quilt, or to make a series of borders.  I recommended the borders.  She agreed.  The quilt borders will have four inches of the blue all around.  The circles will seem to "float in blue.  Then there are two borders of 1 1/2 inches each of the purple and gold in the corner of each melon shape.  Then there will be 6 inches of the batik fabric that encloses the blue melons, and last, another set of 1 1/2 inch borders as above.

Borders are a little less time consuming than sewing the arcs of the melons and centers.  But there are yards and years of sewing in their construction.  Attaching them will be the next milestone.  Then I can begin the quilting.  I expect that the quilt may, just may, be completed by Christmas, but their first anniversary is closer to reality.

A part of the reason for such a long time is that I find it difficult to work on the same project day after day.  With that in mind, I'm about to begin a minor project of a table runner for a friend.  That will provide some relief, and I'll also have another gift completed.

That's the latest installment on the history of the quilt.  The next installment will not be soon.  But, I'm certainly glad to have reached this milestone.

Women and Men

I realize that much of what I'm about to write will seem self praise, but truthfully, it isn't meant to be.  I'm really trying to understand the relationships many men have with their significant others.  Here's the story.  This afternoon there were seventeen women in the house for a bridal shower for our nephew and his fiance.  For the most part, I remained upstairs and away from their celebrations.

There were several comments about the quilt, all very complimentary.  I was asked why I became a quilter, and answered as best as I know with my stock answer.  Dessert was served, and it too gathered significant praise.  I made the dessert, and all the women were highly complimentary.  After dessert, I gathered the plates and utensils.  I put the plates in the dishwasher and hand-washed the silver forks.  I cleaned most of the other dishes that were used.

When a couple of women saw what I had done in cleaning the kitchen, they acted as if it is unusual for a man to do that.  One lady said specifically that she wished she could get such service at home.  A few complimented me on being so helpful.  From all the comments, it seemed that most of them thought I was doing something special.  That is what spawned this post.

Marrianna probably does not believe that my kitchen efforts are anything special.  We have developed a division of labor that seems to work for both of us.  When I retired, she said that she also wanted to retire, so we divided some chores around the house.  I always clean the pots and pans used in preparation, dry and put away the clean ones, and put the other dishes into the washer.  I also unload the dishwasher after it's run.  It just seems fair, and nothing special.

Listening to these ladies though, and over time many others, it must be unusual for their spouses to do it, or to cook unless it's grilling outside.  That's a "man's" job.  Women make such a to-do over the small things I do in the house that I'm convinced that even that little is not what they are used to.  I don't feel as if I'm anything special, but it sure seems they do.

It is embarrassing.  Receiving glowing accolades for an act that seems normal to me is embarrassing.  It's not as if I can just say "It's nothing" when they so obviously think it is.  And these ladies have, or seem to have, strong relationships.  Many of them are professionals themselves.  Why is it so different to their view to have a man divide household labor?

Perhaps I'm just not very good at receiving praise.  When I show the quilt to folk, even those in my quilt group, they give it very high marks.  It's a very good quilt, but the quilting group does equally fine work, and they praise each other's work also.  I just do not know how to graciously accept the good words.  I don''t think I am special because I'm a man doing something most men do not.  The same applies to whatever I do in a kitchen.

I'd like to be able to say to these ladies that I'm nothing special, that I only do what seems fair to me.  But I have learned that when we tell someone that the act for which they are praising you is nothing special, it is  like saying to them "Your praise is meaningless to me."  And that is impolite and demeaning.  I'll just have to learn to say "Thank you" and let the rest of it slip by.

Men, on the other hand, need to learn how very appreciated such acts are to their wives and significant others/  Getting over the need to be in charge and macho is the best way to develop closer relationships.  That's my bit of preaching for this evening.

Going With The Flow

The quilt has taken priority for two days.  Marrianna is holding a bridal shower here tomorrow for our nephew and his bride-to-be.  The quilt is to be their wedding gift, and though it isn't going to be completed by the May wedding, I wanted it at a stage that I could show them how it looks, and perhaps illustrate why it is taking so long.  I had to rush a little in order to reach a sort of milestone.  It's now to that point.  I made the last stitch earlier this evening, and the quilt is hanging from our railing now.  It isn't nearly finished, but it is at that milestone.  I'll take some photos tomorrow and update the history.  That's my excuse for now writing yesterday and for the Quick Post on the 20th. 

Marrianna reminded me this morning that today is my father's birthday.  He would have been 96.  It's a shame she had to remind me.  Pop was never a good father, but it wasn't his fault in many, many ways.  After his death, he and I have had several long conversations, and yes, I know how strange that sounds.  But it's true.  We've cleared up all the problems we had with one another when he was alive.  I respect and love him now, neither of which I did when it counted, while he was alive.

I had an interesting occurrence last week.  I was on the golf course, walking down the third fairway.  A guy going up the second fairway called over to me, "Is your name Jim, Jim Putnam?"  I answered yes, and he walked over and introduced himself.  He is "A" Putnam, (using an initial unrelated to his actual first name).  He had seen my name on the sign in register.  His family moved to Chapel Hill when he was an infant.

Putnam isn't a common name, but it isn't rare either.  I knew that there were other Chapel Hill residents with the name, but they aren't relatives, and I'd never met any of them.  A and I talked for a few minutes, and both continued our golf game. 

There were two General Putnams in the Revolutionary war, Israel and Rufus, uncle and nephew.  The nephew went west after the war and founded Marietta, Ohio.  So far as I know, my branch of the family aren't descendants of either.  A Putnam may be though; his family moved here from upstate New York, where Israel lived.

Question:  Can a reader tell me whether I used correct terminology and grammar above when I wrote "two General Putnams?"  I wonder whether the term should be Generals Putnam, as in attorneys general.  I can't find it in my grammar handbook.

It's time for this flow to cease for this evening.  About the only thing I can say about this post content is that it fills my desire to write almost every day.  I'd like the posts to be a bit more relevant or interesting, but sometimes this is the best I can do.

Quick Post

There are only 30 minutes before I have a commitment; thus the title.  I do, however, want to make a quick health report.

Most readers have no idea about any physical problems I may have, and that's fine.  Some folk are aware, and for some the blog is an important way for me to keep them up to speed.  I had an appointment with my cardiologist yesterday that gave me an outstanding report.  My pacemaker has been operating normally, and I've not had any atrial fibrillation episodes since it was installed.  The doctor is pleased, and Marrianna even more so.

I'll have the pacemaker monitored every three months via telephone, and unless it detects a problem I do not have to see the cardiologist again.  In one year, I'll have an appointment with a technician to check the pacemaker out more fully than the telephone monitoring can do.  And I have to continue regular four to six month visits with my family practice physician.  That is the full report.  I'm pleased.  My three time a week at the gym plus one or two golf days each week are working.  I'm feeling fine, and expect to continue to do so.

In other, lighter news, Marrianna and I went outside to see the moon eclipse this evening.  There was extensive cloud cover, but the moon broke through once in a while.  A full eclipse is a beautiful sight.  The most unusual thing, though, is that Marrianna was in her nightgown with a light shawl, and I was in shirt sleeves.  North Carolina weather is great.  We continue to need rain, but that's the only problem.  The trees are budding and crocuses are up.

That's it for this evening.  I realize the medical report isn't interesting to many folk beside Marranna and me, but I think it is worth writing about. 

Digitabulist

Guess what!  I am a digitabulist.  I collect thimbles.  I just learned the word, and since it isn't in the Oxford English Dictionary, am not positive that it is a word.  But I've found it in several places, Wikipedia, a blogging collector here, and another collector here, so it must be a relatively new word used for thimble collectors.  Google finds almost 500 references to digitabulist.

When I first began quilting, a friend brought me a reindeer skin thimble from Alaska.  After that,the collection just seemed to grow.  Now, every time I visit a new place, I search for commemorative thimbles and at antique shops and shows.   Currently, I have somewhere around 100 thimbles.

Bloggers using TypePad are provided a statistic service intended to inform how many page views, the number of views of the blog, occur.  It shows the number of views and, in some cases, the web site of the viewer.  It's really a useless statistic, because it shows hits by search engines as views.  Most of these aren't actually readers, just the result of a search engine sweep.  But it is possible to link to, for instance, the Google search and see what the search criteria my blog met to be included in the list.  Once in a while, I follow the link.  This evening I did, and am quite glad I did.

Someone, I have no idea who, had Googled for "village quilting groups."  At the top of the Google list was a blog about quilting.  My recent post, "Village Quilters," satisfied the criteria.  Actually, scanning the Google list, there are hundreds of quilters writing blogs, but I followed the first one to "A Village Quilter."  This is a blog by Sara Jayne.  She lives in Market Bosworth, Leicestershire, United Kingdom.  She has a lovely blog, and I've bookmarked it.  I can learn a lot about blogging with her example.  Actually, after reading her blog, I can learn a lot about several things from her.

In a quick scan down the Google list, there are several blogs about quilting in the UK, also several quilting and fabric shops.  There were about 1,160,000 entries meeting the search criteria.  Quilting is a community that crosses oceans and borders.  I have a reference book listing all the quilting shops in the US, and whenever I have the time while traveling I visit some.  We instantly have something in common, and I've never met an unfriendly quilter.  I'm never able to just visit a shop.  For some reason,  I feel it is impolite to visit and not purchase, a sort of reward for having their shop listed in the book, giving me the chance to visit a new place.  Now that I have a better idea of the number of shops in the UK, whenever I have an opportunity to visit  the UK I will add to my list of shops visited, and probably my thimble collection.

This evening I've learned a new word, found a new blog of interest, and enjoyed writing about it.  The day just can't finish nuch better than that.

Political Musing and Taking Sides

Reviewing my last few posts, it's clear that  I've become bored with politics.  Only one of  my last few posts can be considered political, and it's actually more about environment.  This evening though, I want to skirt around politics rather than meet it head-on.

It is difficult for me to understand how anyone can support a Republican, any Republican.  But there are millions who do.  That fact gave me a bit to think about this morning as I sat at the quilting table.  I questioned their sanity, intelligence, motives, and any and all measures.  They must not be thinking, or maybe they are not aware of the real situation in our nation and the world.

I saw a lady on TV this evening in Wisconsin carrying a large banner for McLain.  I asked myself how she can be so misguided.  I see huge Republican rallies, and wonder how so many people can be so wrong.  Surely they cannot be serious.  What criteria are they using in evaluating the candidates?

As I sewed, the idea dawned that they may very well be intelligent, sane, strongly motivated folk who have simply come to a different conclusion than I have.  Because they are Republican doesn't mean they are corrupt.  They are people, like me in more ways than they are different.

I am in my blindness, a part of a major problem raging within the US.  In fact, it's occurring around the globe.  People who disagree with one another, like me, become the enemy, and there's no peace.  Bob's Sunday sermon was titled "Blessing, a.k.a. Reconciliation".  There is a short anecdote in it that I've copied, because it illustrates the kind of thought processes I think are needed to begin to bring about peace and reconciliation.

 Our friend Marcia Mount Shoop tells yet another story of two brothers who shared a plot of land. One brother had a wife and five children; the other lived alone. The brothers always split their harvest of grain exactly in half. One night the brother with the wife and children woke in the night and began to think about this arrangement of splitting the harvest fifty-fifty. He began to think this arrangement was not fair. He thought to himself, “Why should my brother get half of the harvest when he is alone? I have a wife and five children—they will always take care of me. My brother has no one to take care of him. He should get more than I, since he is alone.” So this brother began, in the dark of each night, to go and deposit additional scoops of grain into his brother’s granary.

One night the other brother woke in the night and he also began thinking of their arrangement. He thought, “Why should my brother get half the grain? He has a wife and five children, and I live alone. He should get more than I do; he has a whole family to feed. I have more than enough.” So the second brother began to go each night and put additional scoops of grain into his brother’s granary.

One night, they happened to get out of bed at the same time and they met each other, each with a sack of grain on his back. [As they met, it began to rain. The raindrops, it was said, were God’s tears of joy.] After these brothers died, their story began to be told in their village. When the people of the village were deciding where to build a place of worship, they chose the spot where those two brothers met that night. They decided there was no place in town holier than that place.

So long as I cannot understand the other, and question motivation, even intelligence, there will be no reconciliation, no matter who is elected in November.  What's needed is that I learn to accept that they have simply come to different conclusions.  From that place, there is hope.