MansWhirld over at Whirld Works Farm has inspired me. He commented on another of my posts that he’s taken up woodworking and collecting hand crafting tools for it. What an amazing hobby! He makes toys for his son. Someday those toys will have been passed down to his great grandchildren I’m sure, and they’ll get to enjoy them, too.
My hobby is reading. Not terribly inspiring or lasting, is it? I’ve written a couple of short stories that will never see the light of day and aspire to a book someday. But, for now, I’d like to learn a skill, an art, that is a little more lasting than something I am going to put in a drawer for the rest of my life and never let anyone see.
I have mornings generally free right now, so I have time to learn something (if I can get off my butt and quit reading quite so much). I have everything necessary to make a quilt – I bought all the fabric several months ago and even got started cutting it before putting it away. I could work on that for a couple of hours in the mornings. I have fabric to make clothes as well. Apparently I really wanted to be good with a sewing machine. Maybe it’s time to try again. The quilt at least might be lasting enough to satisfy my urge to be remembered for more than my library of romances, mysteries, sci-fi, and thrillers.
I think that’s what it comes down to honestly. It’s not so much that I want a hobby for itself, it’s that I want to make something useful and real. And I want something for which I will be remembered. Something tangible that, when they look at it, people might think of me. Yes, it’s a selfish motive. I recognize that. I have given up on so many dreams because I realized that they weren’t right for me. I will probably never be a world-famous author or actor or speechwriter. That’s cool. But I still want to be remembered, if only among my family, for something. Doesn’t everyone want to leave a legacy of some kind?
So maybe it’s time to dust off the sewing machine and teach myself how to sew properly. Maybe I can be remembered as the crazy old lady who dragged her family into homesteading and insisted on making her own clothes. That’s a legacy to be proud of. There are stories to be told in that kind of legacy.