This is my last year teaching. It started out to be a hard one in that I questioned my readiness, felt nervous for the future, and was greeted by one of the toughest classes in years. That’s saying a lot since I had spent 20 of my 26 years teaching in a classroom designed to accommodate an “at risk” students. I handled retirement jitters by balancing my work life between my art studio and my teaching, seriously considering what the next step was going to be. I hit a nice stride around January when my retirement paperwork was complete and submitted. Retirement was then mere months away. My husband and I planned a holiday to celebrate the end of one chapter and the beginning of another oblivious to what lay ahead. Not only was our world but that of the entire globe in store for a change that would rock all our futures- the Pandemic. “Man plans and God laughs.” Only this time, I’m not sure God is laughing. At least not the God I imagine.
So instead of racing forward to put my plans in action, I came to a standstill. My world shrunk to an extraordinary degree. My circle of people that I could hug and hold was limited to those that shared my home. Everything and everyone outside of my home were reachable only through the Internet. My fears grew and my anxiety spiraled. I took comfort in the fact that I shared a home with those that I love and that love me in return.
I saw my art as a way to negotiate the unknown. At first, I continued to put effort into finishing my new face, oddly titled “The Sentinel” and a new piece that reflected my safe place growing up. It was long before I tired of this self indulgence in the middle of a crisis. I decided to fight back instead. I began a plan to make masks.
At first , the masks were for family, community and friends but evolved into efforts to include local businesses. Before I knew it, I had donated over 150 masks. Mask demands kept coming. A local company put in an order for 100. My machine ate through spools of thread, sewing needles and yards of cotton fabric from floral patterns to Minecraft flannel. I donated money earned to a local food coop and requested recipients to “pay it forward”.
As time marched forward, I realized that I need to start charging a fee for large orders. I need to replenish my stock. I also needed help. That’s when my husband became my “Cutter”. Today, we laugh and work together as my husband, Andy, shares my studio staying sane in a world spinning out of control. When our work day comes to a close, we drive home to join the rest of our family - my daughter, Sarah, her children, Amari, William and Caleb, and of course, Bannor, our cherished rescue dog that is all too familiar with the randomness of chaotic events.
What this journey has taught me is to appreciate the simple things and to focus on the moment at hand for tomorrow is yet to be defined and may not be anything that is expected.
Who would have thought I would be wearing a mask made in Studio #347 as part of my everyday wear?
