Tag: 70273 project

Blocks made by Chloe Grice and her sister, Kat Andrews. Photo by Chloe Grice

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters
and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

~~ excerpt of a poem by Naomi Shihab Nye

Everything happens for a reason, and sometimes things help us clarify and articulate what matters and what we – what our life – is all about . . . 

“Last year we had 12 volunteers, this year we have only 9,” she was saying as I walked in. “I asked for 12, but I only got you, so people will just have to wait because we are NOT going to rush. Hey, you can’t be in here,” she barks when she sees me slip quietly into the room.

“But I signed up to help,” I tell her.

“What’s your name?”

“Jeanne Hewell-Chambers.”

“Who ARE you?” she asks loudly.

And with that, the 6-8 other women around her begin to giggle.

“I’m Jeanne Hewell-Chambers,” I tell her again.

“And YOU volunteered to HELP?”

The women don’t know whether to look at me or her, but they all know how to laugh in either direction.

“Yes,” I say, my voice now almost at a whisper.

More laughter, then she says with a sigh and rolling eyes, “Okay then” and joins in the laughter with them, shrugging her shoulders as if to say “whatever”.

Though it certainly feels like it, this is not the 7th grade playground. This is a quilt show just a few days ago. I officially belong to this organization (even though I’ve never been able to attend a meeting because the drive is 1.5 hours each way), but because part of the membership requirements are to work at the annual quilt show, I raise my hand and show up at the appointed time.

Staying in the back of the room by myself near the exit door, I work the entire shift, frequently fantasizing about walking right on out the door and never looking back, but I have two quilts to pick up, and besides, I gave my word and, as we now know,  they are short-handed, so I stay and work. Three hours later on the walk to the car, I physically brush myself off and do a little shimmy – my way of slipping out of the negativity and leave it there.

We stop for a nice supper, The Engineer and I, and when we get home, I remove the quilt show tags and open two envelopes that my novice brain thinks contain a renewal notice and a thank-you-for-helping note.

But no.

The 70273 Project, Quilt 1 is one of the quilts I entered, explaining in my artist statement that people from around the world are making 70,273 quilt blocks to commemorate the 70,273 disabled people who were murdered in Germany between 1940-41. White bases represent the medical records on which evaluations were made, and the two red X’s represent the death sentences. The judges’ feedback is that the blocks are not the same size, causing the quilting lines to be askew.

The other quilt I entered is Communion 2, a visual interpretation of a conversation with my mentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy. The judges’ feedback is that while the hand stitching is okay, the quilt should be square, sides straight, and there should be no exposed raw edges on the fabric used in the quilt.

Though I’ve attended many quilt shows, this is the first time I’ve participated, and the judging is a surprise to me. I feel quite sure that the judges are expert quilters – as expertly talented and knowledgeable as every person who had a hand in creating The 70273 Project, Quilt 1. I am also keen on believing that the judges weren’t privy to information about each quilt before judging . . . but still. Had there been an option on the submission form giving me a choice of having my quilts be judged or not, I could have saved the judges some time and me some angst. Their words sting. It hurts to be misunderstood, to be told you’re less than . . . and the thing is that though I do admittedly feel a tiny bit bruised, my ire comes from the disrespect shown – intentionally or no – to Nancy, to Kitty, to MJ (the Piecer and Quilter for Quilt 1), to those who made and continue to make blocks for The 70273 Project, and always, always, always for those we commemorate and celebrate. It’s this setting aside, this overlooking, this dismissive behavior we are standing up to here in this project.

Now I’m not saying that it’s what The Woman In Charge Of Volunteers or The Judges were doing – in fact, I feel pretty sure that the judges have to adhere to a set of quantifiable, measurable rules and standards (and I still maintain that it would’ve been nice to be able to opt out) – but I am saying that I will never understand why some people make themselves feel better and bigger (as in more powerful) by stomping on and squishing others.

And let’s be honest: we all know people who people like this.

Such behavior seems to me a shallow, temporary way to fill your Self . . . like a sugar rush that brings a burst of energy followed quickly by lethargy. On the other hand, people who fill themselves by doing good work – who spend every day spilling caring, kindness, and compassion everywhere they go – these people have no need to belittle or begrudge others because they fill themselves up with Things That Count. It’s easy for people who know how to fill themselves in lasting ways to accept differences in personalities, in preferences, in creations, to see value in every human and every creation.

I hope that makes sense.

I’m not saying we have to like every single quilter, but how hard is it to be pleasant and appreciative (even when tired at the end of a quilt show)? And I’m not saying we need to like every single quilt, but how hard is it to be encouraging, to find something good to say (or at least ask a question to show interest and willingness to See), even if it’s not our preferred style of quilt?

Before long, I’ll open an envelope with a form requesting my renewal dues. I think I’ll spend that money buying fabric for a new piece in the Communion Series  and takingThe Engineer out for a good dinner – complete with a glass of wine – on our way home after attending next year’s quilt show as spectators who love marveling at and being in the presence of quilts (and each other).

Some of you may remember that I launched The 70273 Project on 2/14/2016 . . . Valentine’s Day . . . my birthday . . . Love Day. It seemed Right to me because this is a project about kindness, caring, respect, and compassion – all feeding into the river called Love.

Since Launch Day, we’ve been floating along, allowing the project to unfold and evolve as it will. Many people along the way have asked me to point them to the finish line, wondering what’s my deadline. It’s a fine line I walk, navigating between the numbers and the commemorating. I don’t want to do anything to distract us from the reason we’re gathered here around The 70273 Project campfire, don’t want to do anything to get between us and our commemorating those who died, celebrating those who live, and educating all who will listen.

There I was, about 10 days ago, writing in my journal when The Crazy Idea paid me another visit, landing on my shoulder and dictating this to my fingertips:

It shouldn’t take longer to love than it takes to hate.

Not giving me time to catch my breath, The Crazy Idea explained . . . the German Nazis took 20 months to murder 70,273 disabled people. Can we . . . shouldn’t we . . . commemorate those 70,273 people in the same length of time? Should it take us longer to commemorate than it took them to kill? Launch occurred on 2/14/16. Twenty months later is October 2017, so y’all, we have ourselves a goal. A target date. A finish line.

Now I don’t want us to get so focused on numbers – quantities, and dates – that we crank the blocks out like machines. That’s who they were, not who we are. That’s what they were about, not what we are about. But it does seem Right and Good to my Bones that we strive to have the blocks finished in 20 months. Does it feel Right and Good to you, too?

The world will not stop spinning if we don’t have all the blocks by October 31, 2017. The moon will not pack up and move to another galaxy far, far away. Cloth and thread will not dry up, disappear, cease to exist. If we don’t have all 70,273 blocks by the end of October 2017, we will simply continue stitching until we do have them all – one block for each disabled person murdered. (Important note: I’m talking having all the blocks completed by the end of next October, not the quilts, though we will continue to work on them, too. I expect they’ll take a bit longer, though.)

So it will be a soft deadline.

I will not crack a whip or purchase a bull horn or declare you must work overtime. Your pay will not be docked should we not meet our goal. But we will try, right? We will galvanize with renewed enthusiasm and dedication, right? (Please say yes.)

How will we do it? By continuing to do what we’re doing now: Creating an eternal grape vine by telling at least three people every week about The 70273 Project. Being breathing billboards by stitching blocks wherever we are. Sharing links to blog posts, tweets on Twitter, posts on Facebook. Inviting friends over to sit and stitch a spell. Getting on the agenda of our clubs and guilds. Making blocks with our siblings, encouraging our children to make blocks with their siblings, inviting our friends to join the English-speaking Facebook group or the French-speaking Facebook group, liking the Facebook page, subscribing to the blog. We’ll continue posting photos on Instagram, following the Pinterest board, and encouraging friends and family to do the same.

And always, always, always we’ll remember, honor, and commemorate.

Will we do it? Will we create another 66,129 blocks in a year? Can we do this big thing? I’m pretty darn sure we can because when we join together, when we bring our hearts and our hands together, when we believe deeply and wholeheartedly in what we’re doing, we do Big Things.

Thank you for being part of The 70273 Project Tribe. ‘Tis a good thing y’all are doing.

A very good thing.