A Time to Swear
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| Kyra's Garden: No Swearing Required |
My first job, and one of my first memories, was “walking
beans”. From the middle of June, until the soybeans grew into a matted mass, my
mom and my sisters and my brother, along with most other Midwestern farm kids, began
each morning by 6am walking up and down miles of rows of soybean fields,
pulling each and every weed. By the root. (It didn’t count if you didn’t get
the root.) We ended by noon or so, before it got too hot.
Back at home, the five of us kids would jostle for a bit of
cool from the window air conditioner in the dining room, waiting for our turn
in the bathroom, while mom cooked us all lunch, refilled our milk jugs with
water to freeze for the next day’s work, washed our stinking clothes, and helped
Dad into his El Camino to inspect our work. (My dad had mobility issues due to MS. But
that’s another story.)
I could go on and on about walking beans, the ankle-spraining
cement-hard clods of mud, and the bugs, and the stories we shared, safe within
the monotony of the rows…
(Hang on, I’ll get to the swearing
part pretty soon…)
…the leaves that cut your arms and legs like razors, the never-ending
green you see for hours afterwards when you close your eyes, the pride you felt
when you could “take 4 rows” instead of just the 2 on either side of you, and
the evolution to spraying Round-Up on individual weeds from a “bean bar”
attached to the front of a tractor, to Round-Up Ready seed and the loss of rural
youth summer employment. But I won’t
talk about that. Not today.
Today, I want to talk about “bean walking talk”…
(Here it comes…)
… the only time we were allowed to swear. My family wasn’t
particularly religious, and my parents weren’t particularly strict, but we were
expected to act like ladies and gentlemen. Unless you were walking beans.
Since then, I’ve discovered other times it’s OK to swear.
Like when you’re living with cancer. Specifically, when
you’re a young adult living with cancer. How the hell are you supposed to deal
with that?
Well, that’s exactly what the organization “Shit That I Knit” (or “Sh*t That I Knit” for those who’ve never walked beans. Or who’ve
never had cancer) is all about. They sell knitted goods made by women in Peru,
purchased at a fair profit, and provide free knitting kits and support for
young adults living with cancer.
How cool is that?
Here’s an organization willing to swear out loud for a
cause, while doing something positive about it. If that’s not amazing, I’ll eat
my f*cking bean walking shoes!
Right now, “Shit That I Knit” (yes, I’m swearing and I’m not
even walking beans!!) is sponsoring a contest for original beginner-level
knitting patterns using one ball of super bulky (specifically Lion Brand Wool Ease Thick and Quick) yarn, and size
15 (big) knitting needles, that speaks to the mission of “Shit That I Knit”.
At first I thought, “That’s something I can do, easy!”
Then, after a few false starts and falser (is that even a
word??) endings, my wise hubby said I should knit what I know: slippers. So, here they are, my own original Cozy Toes
slippers, modeled by my Kyra.
I’m entering my slipper pattern in the contest, but whether
or not I win, or get any recognition whatsoever, knowing that “Shit That I
Knit” exists lifts my heart. I’m in awe of their audacity, encouraged by their
bravery, and humbled by all the shit they’re doing to uplift so many lives. God
bless.
I guess the final take-away here is that no matter what
you’re going through, you’re not the only one. You’re not alone. Somebody gives
a shit. I know I do.
Peace,
Sara