Wow, what memories! It was an enchanted place and we were so lucky that Sheila hung in there so long. The mention of the darkroom is funny: I was talking to Dave about not remembering if I made a darkroom when you'd taken up photography. It sounded like something I would have done, but I couldn't wrap my hands around the details, and we surmised that maybe we have a belief in our parenting that is actually better than it was. I let it go, feeling a little sad that the memory was really strong but not strong enough to believe as fact. Then I read this and all is jolly and bright. You were always a creative little shortie, and my sum total of parenting knowledge lay in the art room, the museums, the crafty crafts that we would do together. There were times, like in HK, when I would be grabbed by a fierce need to read and I would play pretend person between long stretches on the couch with a blanket and a book. The creativity in the world goes back and forth, healing the creator and the art afficianado. It a right ripe old adage--idle hands are the devil's playground. I battled with the sewing machine yesterday until I was ready to toss it off the balcony, but I reminded myself that if one modus operandi doesn't work, try door number 2. And so I did. Love you so much.
Here's what Harriet said:
Lovely! How wonderful that she “took” to BMC so deeply!
Good memories, thanks for reminding me. You really "got" the place.
Wow, what memories! It was an enchanted place and we were so lucky that Sheila hung in there so long. The mention of the darkroom is funny: I was talking to Dave about not remembering if I made a darkroom when you'd taken up photography. It sounded like something I would have done, but I couldn't wrap my hands around the details, and we surmised that maybe we have a belief in our parenting that is actually better than it was. I let it go, feeling a little sad that the memory was really strong but not strong enough to believe as fact. Then I read this and all is jolly and bright. You were always a creative little shortie, and my sum total of parenting knowledge lay in the art room, the museums, the crafty crafts that we would do together. There were times, like in HK, when I would be grabbed by a fierce need to read and I would play pretend person between long stretches on the couch with a blanket and a book. The creativity in the world goes back and forth, healing the creator and the art afficianado. It a right ripe old adage--idle hands are the devil's playground. I battled with the sewing machine yesterday until I was ready to toss it off the balcony, but I reminded myself that if one modus operandi doesn't work, try door number 2. And so I did. Love you so much.