Gladys Kravitz – Quintessential Meddler
My grandmother was a lovely woman. Unlike Gladys Kravitz, she wouldn’t meddle in anyone’s life to save her soul. She didn’t gossip and I never heard her say anything bad about anyone, except for Grandpa, and it was muttered under her breath.
Grandpa had a sister who would come and stay for a few days every now and then. She was a single woman and always had been. I’m sure Mr. Kravitz wished that Mrs. Kravitz was single many times.
When Grandpa’s sister came to stay she took it upon herself to rearrange the furniture in the living room. I’m guessing she felt she knew better than my Grandma. Grandma never said a word. She let her sister-in-law meddle the entire time she visited.
When the dreaded visit came to an end and Grandma bid her sister-in-law goodbye she headed back into the house and proceeded to rearrange the furniture again.
If there is one thing I’ve learned from my Grandma it’s that sometimes we don’t need to say anything. When people meddle in our lives we can smile and agree and then do what we feel is best for us.
Grandma was in her own quiet way a wise woman with gumption. And that’s not something we can say about Gladys Kravitz.
I remember Erion Road in the spring. Pear trees lined the road covered in snow-white blossoms leading the way home. When the wind blew, the blossoms dropped like confetti and the air was filled perfume.
So much has changed since this picture was taken. It was a different time. The road is still there but where there was once an orchid there is now a subdivision. My parents, grandparents, and all of my aunts and uncles were still alive. Only a few remain.
I lived a sheltered life, a simple life. A time before the loss of love and loved ones. Before boyfriends and adventures, marriage and children, mental illness and divorce. So many memories both wonderful and sad.
I wish I could travel down this road again and visit my old life just for a day. Savour time with my family, walk through rows of grapes, and follow the creek as it cut through the gully. Lay in the hayfield and daydream.
My memories allow me to travel back in time to my life on the farm. To days of simple pleasures and the beauty of nature. A tree-lined road in springtime and blossoms. Beautiful, fragrant blossoms.
I love to spin wool. The whir of the wheel is hypnotic and I find myself lost in time when I spin. I’m excited to work through the whole process: washing a fleece from a freshly sheared sheep, dyeing, spinning and plying.
It would be satisfying to have a hand in the entire process from beginning to end. It’s a process that allows me to create a product that reflects my personality and style.
So why has it been five years since I used my wheel? Why have I not touched the bag of fleece in my closet? I don’t know what stops me from doing something I love so much.
What I do know is that I have a desire and need to create. I can think of nothing I enjoy more than the creativity that goes into transforming fleece into a beautifully dyed skein of wool.
I am putting this on my to-do list before I waste another five years procrastinating. We should all take some time during the day to create. It nourishes our soul!