People are no damned good!
Or so a little plaque on my Grammy’s kitchen shelf proclaimed.
It was a sweet trinket, with flowers and fussy flourishes – exactly what you’d expect to see in an old lady’s old house.
Until you read the words.
My mother has wondered, since, what became of it. She would have treasured that token. But people are no damned good! Some close friend or relative or home health aide pinched it from Grammy’s house when she was old and infirm, or perhaps newly dead.
You, gentle reader, would never do such a thing. And neither would I. And neither would (most of ) the people we know.
Where, then, do they come from, the legions of no-damned-good ones? Did God burp or fart while He was sculpting His perfect image in human clay? Did He snicker like an adolescent boy and then get distracted, picking His nose (or maybe His butt)? Into that lapse leapt limitation. Into that breach breathed the bad.
And the all-seeing all-knowing all-powerful God didn’t notice or — worse — care.
Who elected Him, anyway?
Next, He’ll be suggesting that we inject ourselves with disinfectant or drink bleach to purify our souls and atone for divine error.
But I digress.
I’ve been making fabric face masks to give away during the quarantine. I swear and grind my teeth and whack my sewing machine and get headaches when I fail to achieve perfection (unlike God). But it’s a small thing that I can do. I’ve always joked that, come the apocalypse, roving bands of armed and dangerous Preppers would keep me alive because I can sew and knit and make biscuits.
And here we are!
Then, I read an article by some snarky reporter who claimed that all this grass-roots mask-making was “just another way for The Crafty to feel smug and superior.”
Why be a dick? Even if that’s the national model? Even if God Himself behaves like one? Talk about smug and superior.
But I’m now poisoned. Every time I sit down to make a mask, the venom of that writer’s words chills my veins. As would Lysol.
Although that might burn. If any of you take the presidential prescription, please be sure to let me know (or, rather, have your survivors do so). Truth in Mirth is what I’m after.
People who are no damned good are raking in big pandemic bucks. They needn’t stoop to swindling — they know that being a Good Human is hard. Beset by appeals to our better natures, we’re suckers for appeals to our vanity.
You can own this Collina Strada face mask, for instance, for just $100! It prominently features the official design-house tag, sewn on by an essential worker making minimum wage in a virus-soaked sweat shop. So far, the company is just using up last season’s fabric remnants. But as masks become essential work-wear, they’re bound to come up with a line of specialty corona cloth to command higher premiums.
No matter that this $100 mask is ugly as sin — long thick straps tied in big insouciant bows like the brave pigtails I used to sport. You’d have to anchor it with heavy clips or Gorilla glue.
Don’t roll your eyes. In a world where Lysol is medicine, Gorilla glue secures hair accessories.
Please note: I am not an affiliated marketer, and will not profit if you purchase Lysol or Gorilla glue or even the Collina Strada fashion mask, which you may do here. There’s truth in Mirth, remember.
There were actually two little plaques in Grammy’s kitchen. My mom did inherit the second one, which says simply, The Lord Will Provide. Even for people who are no damned good.
Keep the faith, friends. Please leave a comment, or reach me at mirthfulmmissy@gmail.com
Photos: Collina Strada Design
Welcome back! Missed your missives! Gotta go make not perfect masks. I never blame the machine.❤️
I who have been sewing forever finally watched a video about best practices and fine-tuning your machine (really, I was ready to heave it out into the street). It was half an hour that changed my life. I listened carefully and followed directions, and by God my cheap Singer has been working beautifully. Who’da thunk it was Operator Error?
Welcome back, Missy. I missed you.
Thanks, Larry! It’s nice to be back :-)
Good thoughts!
My occasional foray, masked, into the supermarket, finds me confronting a few clueless shoppers, unmasked and going against the arrows, stumbling past, thinking only of themselves.
It is a good thing that not such a large percentage of the population is infected. If we are not careful, that will change.
Sure you’re not ready yet to move back to Colorado?? Although we also have our share of the Coughing Unmasked wandering the grocery aisles, acting scornful and invincible. Thing is, wearing a mask is about protecting others rather than yourself. It’s a way to be a good human. But I’m preaching to the choir (the Chorale is another reason to move back here, you fine baritone, you :-)
Glad to see that your fingers and your keyboard are no longer practicing social distancing! And your grandmother was right — no matter how many people I see wearing their masks and spacing themselves properly I can only think about the naysayers and non-maskers putting everyone in danger. They’re no damned good, I tell ya!
You’d have liked my Grammy (Inez Isabella). Feisty and tough, a deep and constant worrier with a big heart and great sense of humor, and lots of friends to offset her lack of funds. The unfortunate thing about grandparents is that we’re always too young to really appreciate or know them. Thanks for checking in, Pardner!
My first six or so masks were not quite perfection — even though I followed the lady-from-Johnston’s instructions to a tee. They took me forever and I was not happy with the result. Then, with apologies to my late 7th grade home-ec teacher, I threw all sewing-best-practices out the window and tweaked the design. I figured I could get away with all sort of things for the ties (even shoe laces) and voila! I had 50 far-less-than-perfect masks to distribute to friends and family and neighbors and even some people I didn’t like very much. I like wearing my mask. While it doesn’t hide my eye-rolling when I meet stupid people, it does hide the stuck-out tongue and a few other not very friendly expressions.
Shoelaces – what a great idea! I ordered a spool of elastic a month ago, which finally just arrived. So technically I can be back in business again. Although making masks has lost its thrill, and I now have 70 yards of 1/4″ elastic. . . Congrats for contributing 50 to the greater good! I’ve only managed half that number. Thanks for your note!
But you crafty ones are superior!
Just different, not superior! I with my DIY proclivities am not exactly on a par with, say, a research scientist :-) But thanks!
Thank you for firing up the synapses and delivering more truthful mirth. One of my brothers snatched many of my mother’s treasures when she passed, as he was in charge of the garage sale and I, as you know, am a sentient vegetable with limited speaking ability. I was not capable of intervention. He even rented a truck to carry things away and a friend to help. But wait, there is more. When I visited him in Atlanta, I saw a lovely Chinese box my mother had given me several years ago that he snatched from my house while he was here for the estate sale. The audacity of that man! I found the courage to address the issue directly, indicating that he must have been mistaken, and it is now in my living room where it belongs. By the way, do you knit? My wife is teaching herself and would benefit from some advice, either through Zoom or Facetime. Stay mirthful.
We are all of us sentient vegetables, Mark. It’s just a question of degree. That “sentient” part is what matters most. (It’s the vegetables with limited speaking ability who have gotten the country into so much trouble. But that’s a soapbox for a different day.) I hope against hope that the brother in question isn’t the one you were most particularly kind to for so long. I am ever the naively-optimistic die-hard cynic, a personality type that isn’t covered much in the DSM. So good to hear from you, my friend. It was indeed hard to get those mirthful synapses fired up, but now I’m hoping that the battery will recharge. Responses like yours help – a lot. Will write to you about my love/hate relationship with knitting. I’m currently working on a pair of socks for my dad’s birthday (which was in January). Much gnashing of teeth, yet I keep returning to the struggle. Suppose there’s a lesson there? XXX