Three weeks into our “shelter in place” order and we are seeing
hopeful signs that the curve is flattening here in CA. It is spring, and hope is
what we need. The sheer brutality of this pandemic…there are no words. Every
day we mourn the dead, we grieve for those who could not say farewell, we fear
for those we love. We try not to cry in front of our children, or medicate our
way through each night. We watch, we hope we are spared, and we bear witness. So,
despite having little desire to write, write is what I will do so we won’t
forget. We can’t repeat this tragedy.
Like many last week, I had to curb my news-watching as the
body count soared. I wanted to help by doing more than staying at home. So, I
started making fabric masks for my family. Then on Facebook I offered to make
them free for locals. For four straight days I sat at my dining room table and
sewed fabric masks until my muscles pinched, my vision blurred, and my foot
cramped on the presser foot—as of today I’ve made 70. My curve is bending too, demand
has slackened, and my body has some time to recuperate.
The decision to make masks was an easy one. I needed to feel
useful AND I had the raw materials. I am not an accomplished sewer by any
stretch, but I have made baby quilts for quite a few kids over the years. And I
love fabric—I collect scraps from thrift stores because at Christmas we have
ditched the wrapping paper in favor of wrapping gifts in colorful cloth bags
(try it you will NEVER go back, and the environment will thank you). Like many fabric
lovers, I can’t bring myself to toss any of the bold, loud, colorful fabric
scraps I’ve accumulated over the years. Who knew they’d come in handy during a pandemic?
But the mask-making became a form of therapy for me. The fabric
was nostalgic—here was the last piece from my youngest daughter’s quilt, which
she still sleeps under today (she’s 17)! And here were remnants from the placemats
our crafty friend group made 20 years ago. I remembered dining off them
at their houses, eating the latest concoctions from Moosewood or the Green’s cookbook.
Community, friendship, love, gratitude, these memories were mingling with my
sadness and it was ok. And with each new mask I sewed for a friend in the
community, I stitched some of that beauty, that connection, into their masks. I
chose fabric for people I thought would appreciate it – my friend Lisa, who has
been my parent-coach and confidante all these years, was given a mask with Lily’s
fabric. My friend Tracy—a foodie and gardener, got the strawberry pattern. All
of my mom friends received floral masks because they have brought such joy and
color into my life and those of my kids. I just started calling their masks Face
Flowers.
But just as every fabric has the unfinished, uglier side, so
did my therapy. I used this manic sewing to get out some of my frustration over
how this national health crisis has been mishandled by our administration. When
the sewing machine runs hard it has an aggressive staccato sound that provided
the background music for a lot of expletive-filled mental ranting. How was it
possible that novice seamstresses like me were the go-to for personal protective equipment? Mask maker groups blossomed around the country, answering the desperate pleas from health care and other essential workers who were re-using masks and needed an extra layer of protection. After I
finish this post, I am delivering a dozen masks to a friend who works at the
local clinic so that her patient advocates have some extra protection.
But now I am in a new phase of therapy that brings me
back to my community. People are sending me photos of themselves in their
masks (groups here are families living in one place). The stories behind the mask requests make me want to weep. For example, my daughter Roxanne
discovered her passion for singing thanks to a local musical theater company here,
Gloriana. During her performance years, I put in more than a few shifts at the concession
stand where I befriended a charming older woman who gave me the shirt off her
back when I admired it (actually she bought another one so we could both have
one). A mutual friend requested masks for her, and her husband who’s battling
cancer, and two extras for the caretakers. Sweet, sweet love and gratitude went
into her masks; this was the moment when I imagined them as the fabric version of
chicken soup.
That is my mask journey. Should you find yourself with a
stack of fabric, and the desire to do something for your community, I’ve
included a couple links to good tutorials.
Also, if you are in need of masks, you most certainly can
ask me. I’m trying not to add to the postal service’s load, so just local requests
for now. If you are a health worker and need multiple masks, I found a great
group on Facebook called the Mendocino Mask Makers (almost 300 members!) that
takes requests. https://www.facebook.com/groups/726774797726939/
Mask tutorials
No elastic? no problem!
Can’t sew? no problem!
What a beautiful blog post, Anne. Thanks for sharing your experience here, and thanks for providing for your community in this terrifying time of uncertainty and disease.
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