humanity

Humanity begins at home.

Every stitch tells a story
Just like every little girl I looked up to my Dad. He was just 6’2” tall, rather stocky, a former high school quarterback. In my eyes he was invincible, I believe that nothing could hurt him. Age, and my teenage years proved me wrong. Yet, as I grew-up I still found him invincible.
By Deana Cowles5 years ago in Families
Cut From The Same Cloth
Here I sit again-a pile of clothes in front of me…ideas in my head and scissors in hand…sewing machine at the ready… When your person dropped your things off, I asked about you. I looked at your clothes. Admired the fur, or wedding dress or suit coats. They told me about you; how you lived your life joyfully and well. They said you loved your children and those grandkids were your everything! They told me funny stories, your occupation and how you made them feel so loved. I love this part. I love moving through the sadness of you being gone into the light that you left everywhere. I give them ideas, suggestions of what all this cloth can be transformed into…quilts, pillows, bears, christening gowns, purses. We make decisions, pick projects for different loved ones and then they leave me.
By Jeannie Kohler 5 years ago in Families
For All Intents and Purposes, the Writer was Never Here.
This is a site full of aspiring writers. Everyone reading, for the most part, likes to mix words, shake words, drink words, eat words, and spit words. I’m one of these people. Hi, nice to meet you.
By E. Tena5 years ago in Families
A Quilt of Memories. Top Story - June 2021.
“Mom? Dad?” Sam and Kate’s faces look serious as my husband, Ken, and I peer at them over Zoom. “You know how much we love you, but we just don’t think it’s safe to travel. We think you should cancel your trip.”
By Betsy Rapoport5 years ago in Families
For the love of crafting
You never expect to have a child with health issues or how your life will change in an instant. When my son was born 10 years ago my life was forever changed. Sebastian was an amazing beautiful baby who
By Teresa5 years ago in Families
Mother Earth, Mother Of Mine
When I see the word Mother, I always think of mine. Sonnet- to my mother , - Edgar A. Poe “Because I feel that, in the heavens above, The angels, whispering to one another, Can find, among their burning terms of love, None so devotional as that of ‘mother’ — Therefore by that sweet name I long have called you — You, who are more than mother unto me, And fill my heart of hearts, where Death installed you, In setting my Virginia’s spirit free. My mother — my own mother — who died early — Was but the mother of myself; but you Are mother to the one I loved so dearly, And thus are dearer than the mother I knew; By that infinity with which my wife Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.”
By 𝙺ells5 years ago in Families
Cut of Grace
Women. I’ve always said we are the backbone of the world. No disrespect to men, but it is a time honored tradition really, to be the great healers that we are. Through the ages we have been given, accepted, and met the challenge of being the healers, the nurturers, the care givers. We heal the broken and bruised. We soothe, smooth, comfort and offer solace when it can be found nowhere else. From injured tots, to a dying loved one, we say special words, kiss broken skin and retell stories; the magic may be in our voice, our hands, our hearts or simply our smile and presence. We carry an unseen basket of those things, hopes, wishes, and more, as an arsenal in the battles we fight, whenever we are needed to heal, mend, or bring tattered edges together again. We carry those baskets with us everywhere. Sight unseen, ready to be opened and used at any given moment.
By Barbra Doneff5 years ago in Families
Hand-me-downs
When I was nineteen I created my first fashion collection utilizing the clothes that my parents once wore as its main textile. As I cut through my parent’s hand-me-downs, it felt as if I were cutting through decades of family ancestry -- as if every fiber of the fabric carried a part of my parent’s history. Every detail in that fashion collection represented more than just me, it also represented the hardships my family had to face. These garments were more than just some old hand-me-downs, they were a symbol of the past. In my perspective, creating the textiles and garments by hand felt like an extension of the skill set and passion embedded in the DNA of my existence. I am just a fragment of the generations before me that have paved the way for one another as I pave the way for future generations. My collection created with hand-me-downs are what make up my family, and the textiles created with them are a preservation of every single detail that led to the creation of my family.
By John Henry Sedrome5 years ago in Families
My Family's Crest
I tell this story in memory of my loving Uncle Ricky, whom I lived with and cared for until the day he died. I've lived in the same house I'm still in today, from when I was 16 months old. I'm now 31 going on 32. This 30 year era of my life spent here, holds most of my experiences. Some of the best memories were of our days and nights of arts and crafts with my mother, and sometimes with my Uncle Ricky. But this particular story has to do with our family tree.
By Skylar Joel Harris5 years ago in Families
Be happy in sorrow
Hello friends, my name is Shamu and I am a resident of Himachal Pradesh state of India. People often get shattered due to sudden troubles that come upon themselves and are unable to take the right decisions and start feeling depressed, then I will tell you how to win life even in sorrow.
By Shamu5 years ago in Families
I Thought You Were Meant For Me
I thought you were my soul mate. I thought you were meant for me. My perfect match. That was then and this is now. How many of us has had this thought at one time or another? How many of us would have been wrong? I thought I was with the guy for me , but after a lot of time I see maybe he is not the right guy for me or for my kids, and maybe I am not the right woman for him either.
By amanda j mollett5 years ago in Families
The Drive, The Tribe, The Cool-Blue Ride
The Drive We were cruising over the Causeway top-down and jamming to the music of ACDC "Back in Black," the notes enthusiastically riding the airwaves and trailing along. My husband sometimes blares the genre "hard rock" on our road crossings; it brings us back to high school, when we were once young, free-spirited, and still had a lot of hair. Traveling then in this beautifully vented road carriage, what's left of our hair was flying uncontrollably, whipping in all directions. And the same for the young ones in the back, still with loads of locks (our daughter Sophia at the time 8, Brandon the Yorkie 3, and Grouper the Goldendoodle 2. Sometimes it can get highly gusty with a wicked cross breeze flowing from the Gulf of Mexico on one side of the Causeway to the Intra Coastal Waterway leading to the Pine Island Sound or the Caloosahatchee River on the other. We were heading into town, which for us was Fort Myers, Florida. A little over five years ago, we moved to the beautiful Island of Sanibel. The Causeway gets us "to and fro," the intimate island of the natural wild preserve. One of our many reasons to move there besides the incredible beauty of this place was the school. It was and is rated number one in Lee County for Elementary-Middle School. Our daughter was about to start Kindergarten, so it was an easy choice. Our fur babies came a short time after we settled in. Grouper the Goldendoodle came; first, he arrived into our lives a little over four years ago. It was a blessing.
By Kimberly Paulus5 years ago in Families