Borderline Cheerful!

Notes from Alexis: Is there a word for borderline ‘cheerful’? So many complexities in life!

8-31-83

 

Dearest Lex,

 

Well this is not going to be a funny letter I can tell you that, but those are the breaks!
First off, Dad wasn’t able to leave Thursday to go hunting, as one of the guys couldn’t get off work so Dad has been faunching around here like a sulky bear.

Then Saturday night about one or so in the morning my face began to swell up so, I got up and took a green and yellow pill.  At seven when I got up you wouldn’t have known me. My whole face was swollen really badly!  I took another pill and one more later. The swelling went down VERY slowly so that today I am only a little swollen.

So that’s the bad news. The good news is that I positively know for sure what has caused it all. I went out and weeded Wednesday, the day you left, (can that have only been a week ago?) and then was so sore I couldn’t weed again until Friday. Nothing except sore. Then I went out Saturday and weeded in the grass that J. had brought out. I had sorted suspected the grass because all my troubles started after the first load. Now it may be the grass but after I put it all over the garden J. told Dad it had been sprayed with weed killer! Imagine For the first time I put poison on me and the garden! No wonder I’ve been popping out red with welts!

Now on to another subject–me of course but mind, not matter.  A woman called and wanted me to help her with P.’s baby shower and I said no, that I wouldn’t be coming to the shower, and for some perverse reason just refused to say more than no. Curious isn’t it? Well she gave me a really bad time and my resolve hardened. I could have gotten out by saying I was sick or busy or whatever, but I just wouldn’t say anything– gave no reason.

It’s really interesting that I wouldn’t, and wouldn’t be pushed into going or helping either.  I have been turning the whole thing over in my mind much as you might examine a stone from a river. Some of it is because I’m just not going to any more baby showers; I went to R.’s and thought then that I wouldn’t go to any more.  I haven’t, but also some of it is that I’m not going to be forced.

I think about how hard I have tried to ‘belong’ for all these years and now I’m not going to ‘belong’ and here I’m being forced. Maybe that is funny.

There are a great many things I don’t do because I’ve decided I don’t want to: Send Xmas cards, go swimming, camping, to baby showers, etc. but if I decided tomorrow that I loved those things I would do them, but I won’t do them otherwise.

I find the whole thing most interesting, I think because I have made some conscious decisions and taken a stand. So many people do things just because and it really galls them when I won’t, I wonder why I ever thought I could belong. My thinking is so reasonable and logical that I am bound to be out of sync with a world run on illogical and unreasonable premises. Notice how I managed to make the rest of the world the goat. A. calls that rationalizing but there are other words–madness for one.

Don’t you find it weird the things I take a stand on? I do! Now you can laugh! Then to top off this week, yesterday it was so cold I had to build a fire and keep it going all day. It’s raining today but not as cold. It makes me cross to have to build a fire in August. Of course this whole allergy business has made me cross.

Then I am out of sorts with EAB. The story by Claire Herrington is not working like I want. What I should do is leave that section and go back to some place I know about and maybe I will.  Also the other book is beginning to surface little by little, a piece at a time. No name yet but I can see the wall paper in one of the rooms. Don’t you love it !

Also–I cut my hair or rather Dad did. I just finally got sick of all those combs and fussing with it all the time. Let’s face it I am never going to love hair.

Well with all that I have read a lot and am not really as un-cheerful as it may seem, not exactly cheerful but not un-cheerful either. I wonder what the word can be for borderline cheerful? My, the world is just so complex. So be thankful you have not been here, having to put up with me in such a state.

Love Mom

All a-sea and a-gog!

Notes from Alexis: “The Disappearance of EAB” her first book, is in progress. She shows us how she thinks through the characters and story line.

8-9-83

Dearest Lex,

In case you didn’t recognize it, this is a telephone call. B. called me Friday or Saturday in a snit and a tizzy, it seems we packed up and took a weed vase from your show that belonged to J.K., so to calm her I said I would phone you, so this is your phone call.
So how are you?

I’m still breaking out and now I am taking a steely-eyed look at boysenberries and blackberries. About the time I broke out, I started getting boysenberry jam; remember the blackberries at your house. They are the same critter actually, and as I look back there has hardly been a day when I haven’t had some, of one or the other. So I shall go berry-less for a while and see, and this includes raspberries! Although I’m not letting that thought actually enter into the program–just a cautionary note–for I will not allow a raspberry allergy, any more than I would allow a coffee allergy.

Now I did a spur-of-the-moment thing that turned out to be fun and a great impetus for Disappearance of EAB. (Her first book) I sat here with my coffee one morning and wrote that Anna had found a box with some jewelry and pictures and letters, and all of a sudden I yearned for such a box. So I got dressed and went hunting.

I went to Salvation Army, animal shelter, Bishop’s Attic, and two antique places. I got some old looking jewelry and a treasure trove of pictures and as it turned out, some gems of books, although the books were not for the box.

Then I bought a “record book” at Payless for the Diary. I had hoped for an old-looking record book but am not upset with the new one. I actually wrote the Diary in the record book. I hadn’t done this before. Then I decided to write letters and put them in envelopes, sealed them, then I opened them as if they had come in the mail. All of the sudden EAB became a fact for me.

Strange how the whole process works for me. The pictures I found were almost scary in the way they fitted my needs. The people at the antique store had bought the estate of an old man; he was in his nineties when he died. The pictures were from his estate and many of them were from the 1920’s and 1930’s. Since they were from his family I was able to get several of each person. They even looked somewhat like my vision of my characters. Amazing! I am all agog!

So now I have the EAB box (all except the painting) and I can sit and play with the contents, and it seems to me I go right into the book when I do.

I also rearranged my ‘fact book’ on EAB and took a hard look at my story line, and then it all just sort of fell into place for me and I sat down and wrote the ending.

All I have to write now is the middle. I love sentences like that. It is as if we try to use magic to accomplish our ends.

Now here is a funny thought. In all the times I have written stories before, I have always felt a trifle odd as if I were trespassing or doing something I shouldn’t (a peculiar wrong place, wrong time feeling) but now I feel quite natural and at home. For instance–in the past when someone asked me (or I imagined someone asking me) what I wrote, I was all a-sea, and suddenly tongue tied and speechless. Now I can simply say I write mysteries.

Would I have despaired at nineteen when I yearned so to write; if I had known it would be thirty years before I could sit down and actually do it? I think so, I think so.

I used to always love thinking, of a book, but I hated the writing part. Now I enjoy the writing part. I like the way one thought sparks another. The other day I thought, “Oh my God, what if I don’t know how to write a book” and then I thought, “I’ll teach myself how.” So simple when you “Option” it out; of course I may have to write a hundred books before I get the hang of it.

Weaving and Spinning lessons are going ahead, as I have to use both sides of my brain, don’t I. I mentioned to Dad that I would have to quit weaving and spinning, as I can’t stand the headaches, so he has now had his warning. At some point in time I will divest myself of all the weaving and spinning paraphernalia.

That thought some time back was too much. Now it just seems right and proper, and of no great importance. One day it will all happen. I knew in January that I was going out of business, but I couldn’t bear to think of it. Now in August I am in the writing biz and haven’t the time to mourn. I suppose that is the way to work it. But we both know I had to have something to fill the void. Fortunately I did.

Am looking forward to a nice long visit in a couple of weeks; I really hate these rush-rush jobs. When we have to talk every minute of the time to get it all said, is just too hard on us. I think we are basically lazy.

I forgot to mention that on the day of the ‘treasure box hunt’ I was walking down by old phone office. I was deep, deep in thought about my mission, when I looked up and saw a black man coming towards me. He was about my age, clean and handsome. I looked down and saw he was carrying things like the bums do, and he said “Hello, pretty lady.” I looked up, and we both laughed. Now how did he know he could get away with such a thing? People say the most outrageous things to me.

So far in this letter I have been all a-sea and all a-gog, so you can tell that this is a most exciting letter. One of the things I like about you is that I don’t have to mark the places to laugh. I am still laughing about your joke; about my not knowing which language to read the clock instructions in.

Will close for now,

All Our Love,
Mom

The Rose Knows!

Notes from Alexis: Ladies this one is for us! May we always enjoy our flower gardens! This story was written by Gwen in the mid 1980’s.

THE ROSE KNOWS

When I lose weight, I lose it first on my face, then my arms and finally on my legs, completely bypassing the rich mountain deposits and the low hill lands to the south, not to mention the meadow in between. Why is that?

The truth is that it isn’t the mountains or the lowland outcroppings that bother me. It isn’t even the fat that’s washed to other shores. It’s the meadow. One wants it flat and level or better yet, valleyesgue. Who needs a big belly?

Now it seems to me that scientists and beauty experts are completely missing a chance to have their names attached to a great breakthrough, a marvelous discovery. The invention that is needed here is not a diet pill or diet plan, it is a ‘Nostrum’ to rub upon the areas to be reduced. Something with the odor of violets to lave upon the tummy until it reaches the sublime proportions desired. Or perhaps roses for thighs a dab too rounded and honeysuckle for a bust grown too large to fit nicely in a favorite dress. Maybe heliotrope for hips that sway a trifle more than absolutely necessary for enticement.

Think of it! Go to your favorite perfumery and ask for a scented miracle to do away with horror and despair. The beauty is, of course, that if your abundant charms light some gentle man’s eyes and you don’t want to lose the gentleman along with the fat, you can stop when you see the gleam slipping.

For those who like men who like thin; a garden of flower scents will further enslave him as you melt before his very eyes.

I am tired of sweat. I’m sick of pain that makes me thin and gaunt in some places and doesn’t touch the others. It is clear to me that some of my dulcet is going to be swept away before I can ever get the desired areas cleared. I don’t want to be thin and willowy. Well as a matter of fact I can’t be willowy–I’m too short. And maybe I can’t be thin either. Some small part of me (maybe the only small part of me) is attracted to the kind of man who likes soft.

I like well-rounded arms and legs where you can’t see the bone. I don’t mind having a bust and it’s easier to sit on a cushion than a board. I don’t want arms like toothpicks and a gaunt face rising like a specter from my creamy shoulders.I want what I want where I want it. Some here, some there, and maybe experiment a little along the way. Instead of asking your friends if they are on a diet you could sniff and say, “Taking a little off the tummy, Janet?” and she would reply “You want to watch the heliotrope, Gwen, it can get away from you so fast. I’ve had to cut down drastically.” To which comes the reply, “I know but it drives him mad so I use just a bit now and then,” with wicked chuckles and smiles.

And the exchanges, the trading of scents back and forth between friends as you reach sublime with roses but need a trifle more honeysuckle. Instead of sorrow and pain, all would be delicious laughter and delighted sighs. The pursuit of love should be fraught with the essence of flowers not eau de pain.

I’m not quite ready yet to die for love. I want perfection of form, but I would rather spend my time writing poetry while my perfume works its magic on the man, while working its magic on my body.

Gwen Campbell

Copyright Alexis Campbell-Jansky 2013

Life with welts and headaches!!

Notes from Alexis: Poor lady was always allergic to so much! Then add welts, and you have one ‘Red and White’ woman.

7- 28-83

Dearest Lex,

Well get the coffee and settle down, for here is another of those long involved stories.

I wrote you about getting so excited about the needlepoint patterns that I started plotting the lessons. Last Wednesday D.J. called and wanted my list of students that I thought might be interested in a weaving class. So anyway, in the course of talking to D. she asked me what I was doing and I told her about the needlepoint. She said, “in that case I should talk to B.C. as she was opening a yarn shop downtown.”

I went up Friday to her house and met her and her business partner and we hit it off great. So at this point in time I am planning on having lessons in September or October. It turned out these two gals are really more interested in sewing than yarn, and plan someday to add fabrics. Her partner signed herself and a friend up for my Creative Quilting class.

My rash welts are really bad this morning with puffed up eyes, but then I did work two hours yesterday getting raspberries, and weeded and braced and suckered the corn. But here is the good news. I spun Tuesday (no mask–outside) and no headache.

Oh, did I tell you the good one? No, of course I didn’t but I’m a’gonna. In the course of talking to B., I found out the quilt show in Jacksonville had started last Saturday, so I said something to Dad and he wanted to go. We went over and stopped in Ashland for coffee. We had coffee and goodies and I had a whole wheat croissant. It was so good I couldn’t believe it!
Anyway back to Jacksonville. The show was fantastic but it was hot, hot, and hotter still! We decided to go to Medford and fool around. As we were going by the downtown park I made Dad stop. I was so ill I thought I would pass out, and had a splitting headache. He wet his handkerchief and I put it on my head and we sat there until I felt better, and then came on home.
That night I was so sick I was desperate and took one of his green and yellow allergy pills and 20 minutes later I was all better. Cleared up my headache and welts, and opened up my eyes and throat. There is only one drawback. The side effects are a problem. All the next day I felt dopy and my lips were numb. Jeez don’t you love it? So I will save them for allergy headaches and just not worry about welts.

Now about Dad, sorry dear, but he cannot take any time off, and he can’t go camping that weekend. That weekend is just before he leaves on Thursday to go elk hunting and for a week ahead he is piling stuff all over the house trying to remember what to take.

B. was so thrilled about your sweet letter she had to call me and read it to me. She said she would help me take your art show down. I always start out so optimistically with B. and somewhere along the way the whole thing collapses, and I realize we are speaking different languages. I can just hear her telling her friends that she just loves me but can’t make heads or tails of anything I say.

Well, Dad has gotten himself a new play pretty. He received a camera from some outfit for ordering parts, and it is a Nikon. (He worked for an auto dealership) The only catch is, it didn’t have a lens. Sort of like a car without an engine, what is with that? So he found the lens here in town—for just $240!! — for that treasure, and he wanted it so badly he called me from work. I believe he had probably already bought it and suddenly had this picture of me going through the roof. Anyway I guess it does miracles and I’ve tied lead weights to him to keep him from floating off.
So anyway I suggest you plan on coming down for a day or two and think in terms of a day on a lake or river with Dad. The man does not have his head together the month before hunting and he can’t deal with two things at once.

Did I forget anything? Probably, as it is always high excitement here at El Rancho Campbell.

All Our Love,

Mom

Literature Lover!

Notes from Alexis: Included is a clip from our local newspaper. This barber shop sat next door to our old gallery, “The Outback Pottery and Spinning Wheel.” Makes you laugh out loud. PLUS who ever breaks into a Jewelry store and takes $53.00 worth of “something???” Too Funny!

5- 20-83

Dearest Lex,

Thank you so much for the birthday present. It worked just like you thought. The UPS man came and I wasn’t expecting anything so I was really thrilled. There is only one problem. These colored stationary papers follow the “Dad-New Shirt Routine.” I’ll put them away until I can bear to use them. I love them! Thank you again.

Dad is getting better about his shirts. He has been wearing shirts that have been in the closet only a year. He did pull one out, however, that neither if us remember.

I am so glad you are coming down in three weeks. It will be lovely to see you. Weather finally got over 60 degrees. Dad took a couple of days off and one of them was really lovely. We now have a rose garden. Dad planted seven roses! He has been wanting roses every since we moved in–so I gave him the plan and he gave himself the “no” –so he was able to go ahead on his days off and put them in. He’s going to build a bench to go out there so we can sit and admire the view.

And then there is Lambie Pie. Jenkens gave her to us. They got her and raised her on a bottle and had her tied up in back of their house. The kids lost interest in her so they gave her to us. Dad went out and put barb wire at top and bottom of fence so maybe she will be safe. She loves people and bleats out for them and then comes bounding for loving, so we may end up having to keep her.
Got a longing letter from A. & M., he doesn’t have a job and they have to move at end of June. I sent them three Kaufman books and told them to “Option” it out and see if Klamath is in their future. No sense asking them to come down unless M. wants to or he’ll just move again in six months.

P. called and she is pregnant. Due September 18th, doctor says and they are so thrilled they can hardly stand it. Me, too!

An interesting thing happened to Dad, which you will appreciate. We watched a TV program of painters and when they showed the impressionists, of course, he had some rude comments, and then he told me what happened the next morning. He said he was standing at the table cleaning his glasses and looked out and it looked just like those paintings. He wondered if those painters might have had “bad eyesight.”)Pretty funny Huh! So for the first time in his life he was able to see something from another’s point of view, and it really opened his eyes (pun).

I got one of my famous headaches yesterday and it came after two days of working with wool; one day I spun and next day I carded on machine. Now I am in a tizzy because I haven’t had a headache in a long time and I haven’t spun in a long time. I think I should have been logging all my headaches; I will wait a few days until I feel really good and try it again. I am prepared to throw a real fit and sulk for a long, long time, if the spinning is the culprit. But the wind has been blowing and everything is blooming and maybe that is it.

For the first time in my life I may be doing something at the right time, instead of ten years too soon. Fiberarts had all kinds of ads wanting material. What has happened is those early weavers who made “Wearable’s” created a market, and now there is more demand than supply. I figure I am just learning so I’m not really antsy to jump in yet, but by the time I’ve woven all my yarn, I’ll at least be in a position to critique. At this stage of the game I can’t decide what particular talents I have to offer in the material line, but I feel good about my efforts and not only that but I enjoy doing it. The green comes off today or tomorrow)off the loom) and a red goes on.

I was thinking about polyester and realized that it is throw-away material. Wear it a time or two and throw it away, so it is perfect for our time and place for this is a throw-away society, actually always has been, but I feel change in the air.

Gotta run but will write more later.

Love,

Mom

“Lint picker”????

Note from Alexis: OK “Lint Picker”??  Got to have a sense of humor – which she did!

 

5- 10-83

 

Dearest Lex

Thank you for the lovely Mother’s Day card. Before I opened it, I thought, “If she has just signed a bought card, I’ll scream.” and then found you had done the exact right thing and made your own.

You will be pleased to learn that I now have a hobby. I know how concerned you have been about me, knowing full well that old people need hobbies or they tend to lay around and eat bon-bons. Not only do I have a hobby but I now have a genuine “trade secret” so before I tell you I must swear you to secrecy. So here it is: I am a lint-picker.

 

I was cleaning the lint out of the washer and dryer after washing three of my riya rugs and suddenly it hit me – make paper! One of the big problems with making paper is the pulp. Quite frankly that is where paper and I parted company before. But lint is already processed and ready to go. I do think it has to be of the cellulose line (my rugs are rayon-that’s code for wood) and I just happen to be in the cellulose-lint making business. All this cotton/linen material I am making fills the machines with lint, besides which they are colored. I get two kinds of lint. The lint out of the washer is coarse and that out of the dryer is fine. The design possibilities are limitless. Furthermore, I just happen to have a large stack of wool felt to put between the sheets of wet paper and a metal tub to make it in. The only thing I need now is a frame and deckle to match my felt squares. I already have my ‘no’ from Dad so I am in business. I have sent for a book and when it comes I’ll get Dad busy, and maybe this summer I can make paper.

Dad asked me what I was going to do with the paper but since it is a hobby – I don’t have to do anything, right? Right!

 

 Now we come to the serious part of the letter. I have some news for you that may well change your whole opinion of me. I have fallen in love with TV. First off we got on cable. Sometime I think you should call me ‘lucky’. When cable first came out here it was Ore-Cal and we weren’t interested. Then, the other day a fellow came by from McCaw and the price was right and by then we were interested so I said OK. Then we bought a color TV with our federal tax return and that was it- – hooked! I can see all kinds of good movies. Saw three Sunday. What else can you do on May 8th in a blizzard? Then there is the arts station and I have seen two ballets, Isaac Stern and the Tchaikovsky competitions in Moscow. I try to work on Frameworks so I won’t feel totally decadent.

 

Speaking of Frameworks, you will be happy to know I wrote Judy Chicago. I was day dreaming about having Frameworks in a gallery and listening to what people were saying. Mostly, “I don’t get it” type of things, when a pimply youth came up to argue some point and said, “Doesn’t it bother you when people say negative things about your show?” and I replied, “I could care less. What I hope for is that one person will be inspired to do their own work because of mine.” So then I knew I had to write Judy for she inspired me.

I have been faunching around about wanting a dobby loom and told you it would cost $2,000. Well, in fact the one I want would cost $4,000! So I optioned it out. Funny, how if you ask the right question, you get the right answer. Instead of asking, “How will I ever get $4,000?” I asked, “What would I do if I had $4,000?” and you can bet a dobby loom wasn’t even in the running. Space was the question and answer. I’m really beginning to feel cramped. I took another long hard look at my loom and it met all my criteria for a good loom; the things I tell my students to look for when buying a loom – the right width, a good tensioning set up, good shed, easy operation and all the harnesses, and felt it will be all I ever need. There were a few problems which have needed correcting for nine years and which Dad corrected in 15 minutes and now the loom and I are friends. I’ve finished another couple of pieces of material–that grey with red stripe and it is awfully pretty. Will put on a green and yellow today, I think I will begin making them about an inch wider.

Well got to run I hear material calling.  

All our love,

Mom

Getting “Sore” about Weaving!

Notes from Alexis: Getting Sore about Weaving. Here is a funny story: Mom took “Sunbathing” in High School, which is how she and exercise got along.

4-18-83

Dearest Lex,

I hope this finds you in great shape and if not I don’t want to hear about it, because I’ve got a real problem and I want you to pay close attention and don’t laugh. I realize on a scale of the world’s woes mine would rank so low as to be almost unnoticeable–but
a gnat in your ear feels huge.

So here it is–I am sales blind. I told you about not selling F.S. placemats when she wanted them. Well I did it again. A lady came out to buy handspun and fell in love with a wool hat and it never occurred to me to sell her a Knittin Kit! She also said she loved my blouses (she had seen them at the Outback) and I murmured. “Yes, they are nice.”
In all the time I have been in business I didn’t dream I was totally lacking in sales sense. I just thought I would learn. Well, forget it! I am missing the sales organ. It would take a transplant.

I have been under the impression that all I had to learn was how to weave and spin but we have seen that we have to sell, and how do I do that? I was moaning to you about the wall-hangings not selling but now I can see that even in my mail order ads I was not selling right.

I have finally figured out why I can’t draw perspective right. I am far-sighted. Things far-away look large to me and things up close seem too small. So my roads are small where I stand and get bigger as they move away. There is nothing wrong with my drawing- -I draw as I see. So there is nothing wrong with my talents, it’s just that I don’t have the talent to sell. So where do I go from here?

I’ll tell you how serious this is, I dreamed Dad and I were out on a cruise ship and I had finished my meal and was looking over the desserts. I told the waitress I couldn’t make up my mind and for her to just bring me anything so long as it was chocolate. Ha!

Now about the incredible Linsey-Woolsey cloth: ‘Incredible’ because it is incredible that I could be so stupid and also stubborn. The warp is totally inappropriate, but do you think I will just cut it off and burn it…no way. Perish the thought! At this point it is running about $1500 a yard (in my own mind). Can you believe it? Well, I have a couple of yards left. You would think such a nightmare as this thing would have caused me to get discouraged. I am just impatient to get to something good.

4-22-83
Well, as you can see I stopped. Got your letter and was so delighted but I think you have a mean streak- – talking about your good weather, which doesn’t mean we don’t have good weather…an hour yesterday, an hour today.

Finished the Linsey-Woolsey or as much as my nerves would take. It turned out quite nice and someday I may be able to look at it and smile. The thing is I am so sore; muscles are not used to weaving. All this moving around is hard on the old bod.

I just took squirrel’s breakfast out to him. He goes to the place I leave nuts and if there aren’t any he stands up and peers into the house trying to ‘will’ me to bring food, so of course I do.

For some reason I let myself become discombobulated the past few days because I read of two ladies who can do prodigious amounts of work in a short time and sell for nothing. You read of one, R.B. can spin 2 1/2 lbs. an hour and sells it for $10 a pound. Another lady can weave 25 yards a week and sells for $11 a yard. Of course I know nothing of these ladies’ work except that they have been selling their things for a long time.

Of course it doesn’t do any good to talk to Dad. I say I need encouraging and he says, “I thought you were encouraged.” Once encouraged, always encouraged, right? But you have heard this same old story– potters who can throw monstrous numbers of cups and sell them for dollar a piece. I’m sure this must be why weavers go into art weaving. Somehow it doesn’t seem they are working as long for the price. I think what I need is someone who knows weaving and fabric, so I can tell someone to tell me, to keep my chin up.

Dad fingered a piece I made on the tail end of the Linsey-Woolsey and said he didn’t like it. I had thought it was gorgeous. There is absolutely no way I would ever say such a thing about someone’s work. It certainly does make for short conversations. Well I’m pissed that’s for sure but I just shrug, ‘What the H—’ and carry on. Wow, this has really been a bitchy letter. I get bitchy when I get sore. I don’t like sore, and I have deep suspicions about people who like to exercise because I know they are always sore, and that includes black and blue soccer players.

LATER:
Now a funny thing happened. I ate breakfast and scrubbed my hide and an idea hit me. If I were working for someone else and didn’t have to concern myself about prices or selling or what the public wants, then could I come up with a fair price for labor and materials -for the two items I just finished, which would be ‘ Two minutes’ worth of time. Also, would I continue to make material under those conditions—absolutely —love it! Right question, easy answers.

So what I will just have to do is make my material and trust that somehow it will all just work out. This makes a lot of sense too because I can’t sell unless I have something to sell. If I worry about the selling part I get all bound up (would that be weaver’s block?)

It is amazing how cheerful I feel after going through all that. This ‘Option’ process is just magic. I have decided to go ahead and send this letter so you can see how I muddle through. I am sure that it must appear to you that it is so simple for me to get the right answers, and that is true, but I tend to do a lot of twirling in one place but I tenaciously hang in there like a bull dog until I get answers.

Will stop and take to P.O. Gosh, I hope you will be able to work out a way to visit for a day or so when you down. I do understand that you have to work so won’t throw a fit but if you can it would be super.

It is amazing how cheerful I feel after going through all that.

Love,
Mom

To own a business or “NOT” to own a business???

Handwoven skirt and shawl

Notes from Alexis:

To have a business – or ‘Not’ to have a business?  These were questions Mom and I spent our whole life asking. I currently own two small businesses; I guess it is in my blood. 

PLUS: Read the delightful short story by Dr. Louis Camuti called “All my patients are under the bed”

 

4- 14-83

 

Dearest Lex,

 

Now for “Options.”  One thing you absolutely have to get through your head is not answers but questions. It is just so simple. Ask the right question and the answer pops right into your mind. If you aren’t getting the answers, you aren’t asking the right questions, so go back and start over.

Can you stand some more “Options?”  Too bad poor dear you get it anyway.

I have been much undecided about the business. Stewing might be a better word. So this past week I did a neat thing. I pretended I had closed the business down…not just temporarily but forever. I played the whole thing out in my mind. So now what? I sat around, and lay around, and read and read and read.

One day when you were a teenager at Austin Street you stayed home from school for some reason. In the afternoon you said, “So this is what you do all day.” and I have never heard such scorn.

 That is how I felt… “so this is what ‘not’ having a business feels like?”

I did not fall into a deep depression but boy was I bored. I began, frantically, trying to find some avenue to go down (let’s face it I’m not going to clean house). I thought of clubs, go to school, take art classes (remember Dad said I shoulda). Well I twiddled and diddled away the week and then found a book on taxes and business, and then I asked the right question– Do I want to be in business? Yes!  it just popped out. What I like to do is spin yarn and weave yardage. What I do not like to do is make things. Let’s face it ‘Frameworks’ is not ‘things’.

So, of course, the big question! Can I make money with yardage? My immediate answer is yes (gut answer). While there aren’t a lot of people who know how to use handspun, there are millions who know how to sew. The sewing machine people and the pattern people and even the fabric people (bless their little pointy heads) have been making my customers for me.

It’s time that I find sewers who want $30 a yard material; surely they are out there somewhere! I got out my dress jumper (Outback grand opening #1) and blouse (Outback grand opening #2) and boy, was I impressed. Also have several ideas about other fabrics. Other ideas indeed, it is as if they have been stacking up like planes over New York. (I have also have talked Dad into making me a sample loom.)

Somehow the whole thing just feels so right it is almost ho-hum. Now while I haven’t thought I was moping, when I told Dad what I was going to do, he was as close to enthusiastic as he could get. Gwen doing nothing is a time bomb and he is used to The Spinning Wheel, he certainly doesn’t want me taking off in new directions.

So I really quick whipped that linen warp on the loom (10 hours & 15 min.) and am now waiting for good weather so I can spin weft.

That spring I told you about last week, lasted two days and it has snowed every day since. Squirrel went down in his hole and pulled it over him. I see him out this morning–does that mean I can spin outside today?

I told Dad about my plans to build a shop on Lot #1 and got my “no” so I figure we are in business.

I am enclosing a copy from a book I just read “All my patients are under the bed” by Camuti. He is a cat doctor in NY who makes house calls. If this doesn’t give you a laugh, I give up.

Here is a “Helpful Household Hint”. If you have something on your hands that smells bad–onion, garlic, God forbid liver–rub coffee grounds all over them and presto nothing but coffee. Now that is an original thought from your old ma. (This doesn’t mean, of course, that somewhere out there, nobody else has thought of it.) It just means that I didn’t read it in a book.

Well got to run. This new way of thinking about my business has set the old adrenalin to pumping, and I am full of piss and vinegar.

Love,

Mom

 

All my patients are under the bed

by Dr. Louis Camuti

 

For wacky moments in the Camuti book of memories I think I’d have to give top honors to Mrs. Studebaker, whom I never met but will always remember.

I judged her to be a chatty lady from the long message she left with my answering service. The gist of it was that her cat was having urinary problems and she wanted to speak with the doctor.

From her voice, I got the impression of a sweet, elderly lady when I returned her call. She said that she was .legally blind, though she did have partial vision “Enough that I could see my cat–his name is Chilton–was having trouble with wee wee”.

“Can you bring him to my office?” I said.

“That’s not necessary any more, Doctor. I’ve cured him. I used to be a physical therapist. I’d be happy to tell you my technique, in case you want to use it.”

“That’s most kind of you,” I said.

“Well, I remembered back to my early training. We had been taught that one way to reduce inflammation was to apply hot potato halves around the inflamed parts. Every time poor Chilton tried to wee wee I could see that his woosy-doosy was protruding but nothing came out. I decided it must be inflamed inside, which closed off the wee-wee tube. So I decided to use the hot-potato method on his woosy-doosy. Are you following me, Dr. Camuti?”

“Yes,” I groaned, aching with sympathy pains for my fellow male creature. Not knowing what else to say I finally got up the gumption to ask, “What happened?”

“Oh,” she said matter-of-factly in the same sweet little voice, “He flew through the air and pissed like hell.”

Desert Wish

Notes from Alexis:

     This was written in 1952-53 while Mom was in California. She would be about 19 years old, and had spent most of her life in Texas.

Desert Wish

Have you ever walked in the desert at night?

With the snakes on the prowl,
and in the distance heard a coyote howl.
Or watched as the moon made soft sand shine
and stood transfixed at a cougar’s whine?

Well, I have.

I’ve felt the cold wind blow
down from the hills and over snow.
Snow lay thick and white upon sand,
now that’s a desert of a different brand.

Have you ever longed for a drink of water?

With your heart and soul a flame with thirst.
cursed sand til your lungs near burst.
Or with swollen tongue and face ablister
for a drink, you’d call the devil mister?

Well, I have.

I’ve crossed that desert from dawn to dark
and eaten dog down to the bark.
There’s an itch and a memory lingers
where I lost a leg and two good fingers.

Have you ever stopped in a gay saloon?
Drunk red wine, laughed, then cried
sometimes truthed, but mostly lied,
during stories told and re-told
How you lost your life-long gold?

Well, I have.

And I’d do it again for my love
of sand beneath and sky above.
for the feeling of quiet, man-forsaken space.
How I love this desert place.
Copyright Alexis Campbell-Jansky 2013
Edited by Richard Jansky

Fat versus Wrinkles

Notes from Alexis:
We had been reading a book about “Options” when thinking and solving problems. I cannot find the actual name of the book; although I can find a book called “Stock Market Options Master” (which I actually do with stocks). I guess “Options” has always been a part of my life.

4-8-83

Dearest Lex,

Well I have been practicing “Options” like mad and it is just so good and so easy that I can hardly believe it. I have always said “The easy way is always best,” but I didn’t believe it. Let me give you a long, long play by play, for instance.

We got an invitation to Uncle B’s & Aunt B’s 25th anniversary reception & family luncheon. I was instantly mad. So putting “Options” into operation I began asking all the questions.
I was mad because I didn’t have anything to wear, and I would have to either go shopping (more mad) or make it myself, and I couldn’t work up any enthusiasm.

Why? Well, because I’m fat. So why does this make me mad? Are you ready for this? Because I don’t know what size I am. It is so funny. I was going to order some blouses and I didn’t know what size I am. For forty years I knew, but for the past ten, I have been gaining weight and I don’t know, and I am all at sea. I just felt paralyzed to even buy patterns or go to the store and try on clothes. And of course I have no style, right? That may be true but I do have sense, so with “Options” in one hand and sense in the other, I began working on the problem.

It seemed to me the sensible thing to do would be to go to the Ladies Apparel and try on used clothes. In the first place I trust them because of your experience and I like used clothes best.  So I went in to try on clothes and I had already come to some clear-cut ideas: 1) No belt line, so this meant sheath style or princess (2) dark colors as anything white looks bigger and (3) no true bright colors. It seems to me that all these synthetic dyes are so brilliant they hurt my eyes. S. came over in a red pant suit and I tell you it was so bright I could not look at her, and here is how she seemed to me–two feet tall and four feet wide and she said she had lost 18 lbs!!

So anyway with my three ideas in mind I tried on clothes, I quickly found out I wasn’t 14 or 18 so that left 16, and sure enough that was it. I found a deep plum, a brown and a black/eggshell stripe in the right styles and all three cost $16 so I was satisfied with price. Also those styles don’t show bulges.

So now more “Options.”
When you are young you have two choices–fat or thin. When you are old you have two choices–fat or wrinkled. I have chosen fat over wrinkles. Did you ever see a fat lady with a bad complexion? Why is that do you suppose? Also I found I don’t care about fat anywhere except on stomach. So what to do about it? I could exercise, God forbid, or wear a girdle or hide. Which do you think I chose? (Hide)

One of the side benefits of the whole thing is that I hadn’t known about before “Options” is that I love princess and sheath. I was always geared for fat and didn’t even know it. And another thing–I was thin when I needed to be thin, to attract men (remember those babies) and fat when I need to not have wrinkles. Now I don’t mind a few wrinkles for I feel laugh lines show character, but not all over wrinkles, don’t you know.

Now for my second “Options:”
When Dad asked me to come have lunch with him I was instantly angry. So I “Optioned” it out and here it is; This was the first time in twenty-six years he had asked me to lunch, and the few times I had asked him, he had been a pain in the a–.I was busy and couldn’t think of anywhere to go and so on and so forth, but basically mad.

What I came up with was–EXPECTATIONS. I think, Lex, most of us (and you in particular) spoil our lives with expectations. We think, or want, or expect something, and when we don’t get it we are devastated. I wanted a compact (makeup) when I was six and was mad when I got it at sixteen. I wanted to go to lunch with Dad for twenty years and gave up on him, and when he asked I was mad.
By “Optioning” his side and mine I was able to see it better. He could see that your moving had left a big gap in my life. He knew we always had lunch and he was trying to fill up the hole. So he gets points for trying, but what he didn’t understand was that lunch was just something we did to have a place to talk, and of course Dad doesn’t talk about anything except what he can see–weather, daily routine, etc.

So I stopped being mad because what the h—! I could re-arrange my schedule and lunch is lunch right? It was a nice, pleasant encounter at the Black Kettle and we both get points for being civilized people.

And therein lies the lecture. It just is not reasonable to expect other people or events to be on our timetable. If we expect people and events to be or do what we want, when we want, we are asking for trouble.

So what do we do, have no expectations at all? No I don’t think so, for after all expectations are FUN! But I believe we have to jump on every bit of anger and disappointment, and hate, and question it literally to death. Once you’ve asked all the questions (and answered them) you will find deep down there inside somewhere, there are some good things that you would never have found (go back to fat vs. wrinkles) the peanut, so to speak, where you are able to toss out the shell without a qualm.

One of the things that has come out of this last week for me is rather startling in a way. I am nearly 50 years old and there is no doubt that my years are limited (actually I always thought they were limited and am surprised to have lived so long). According to actuarial tables I have 26 more years to live, so without a crystal ball we’ll accept that I am 2/3 of the way home, and all of a sudden I realize I can do as I damn well please. Now of course, I have nearly always done as I please, within whatever narrow confines I found myself, but now I don’t feel obliged to do something unless I want to, and by golly I don’t feel guilty or feel I have to apologize. I’m over the hump and it’s downhill all the way. Curious about words. When we say ‘downhill all the way’ and mean money or skiing or running, it means good, but when we talk about age it is bad. Well this is the Downhill Skid and I intend to enjoy every minute of it.

Well, spring started two days ago and if you think this is a weather report you are wrong. It is a squirrel report, and a taking off long johns report. I was so thrilled to see squirrelly. I worried he had not survived the winter. He sunned himself a bit then peered right in the house, so I took him out some nuts. Also saw a pair of mountain blue birds so that is a sure sign of spring.

Well, sweetie I have a lot of things to do so will stop for now.

Love, Mom