Thursday, March 20, 2008
Helly Dolly Boutique pattern #126
My first attempt at a 'Hello Dolly Boutique' pattern. I'm pleased with the result and don't regret the investment. This is the "Side Draped Halter Cocktail Dress", though you can't see much of the side draping due to the panel, but that's not a great loss as the side draping effect gets rather lost on a 1/6 scale...I believe the woman who makes the patterns takes vintage patterns for human clothes and scales them down.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
In Memoriam: Audrey Mabel Dunford
For those of you who heard about my Grandmother's passing in January, I wanted to share a picture of her and I, along with the tribute I read at her funeral service.
"I’ve hawed and hummed and hummed and hawed over how best to pay tribute to Gran. It’s been a daunting task, trying to encapsulate 97 years of a life well lived in such a short space of time. I’ve come to the conclusion that instead of struggling, I’m better off reaching our for a bit of help, so I’ll be reading some words from others who have gone before me, starting with the lady herself. The first excerpt is from her diary, dated January 5th, 1980
“How ridiculous it all seems, as I very much doubt if this will ever be read – we seem to be on the brink of nuclear war, but who knows? I feel so concerned for my lovely family with such a future. We (I’m guessing Granny & Grandpa) have both had a good life, considering everything, especially the horror of the Second World War. I never asked God to spare me, after all, who am I to be let off from suffering, but to give me the courage to bear suffering.”
The next passage is from a scarp of paper in her diary - I’m not exactly sure when it was written, but I’d guess sometime shortly after she moved to Needham.
“Things I am still able to do: Write letters, play Patience, keep myself clean and well fed, clean my flat, do a little gardening, clean windows, except those damn silly kitchen windows, needlework, enjoy reading and television, cook, swear and fight with my tongue, flirt, smile and enjoy life and my sense of humour keeps me alive, so perhaps I should stop laughing. Keep adding my monies up, love shopping, but not very often, make a very nice marmalade, be compassionate. One thing I miss very much is to sit in front of a real fire, such company when on your own & some poor souls haven’t a bed or roof over their heads.”
In some ways, I think that captures, in a nutshell, how I see Gran. At times, it’s easy for me to forget that she was human, with human strengths and weaknesses. At times, she borders on a mythical, mystical being, something so much larger than a human presence, but I guess that’s due to the love I felt emanating from her, something that can cross oceans, space, time and death. Thinking of and being with Gran always did, and still does, make me feel safe and secure, that all was well in the world and I could forget all my troubles. I feel that’s one of the greatest gifts a human can give another. I’ll quote Gran’s favourite author Dickens, from the ‘Pickwick Papers’,
“The consciousness that we possess the sympathy and affection of one being when all others have deserted us--is a hold, a stay, a comfort, in the deepest affliction, which no wealth could purchase, or power bestow.”
Gran has left us all a cornucopia of other gifts, with which to remember her and with which to honour her memory. Number one, I think, would have to be her wonderful, slightly twisted and perverse sense of humour, which I’d attribute to her Irish father and the difficult, troubled upbringing she had. I know it’s something we all share, and most other folks I know don’t quite get it. I always relish the thought of getting together with my family and then cherish those happy hours for months and years thereafter.
The other major gift she has bequeathed us, I think, would have to be her love of creating – both needlecrafts and cooking. Gran’s own maternal Grandmother was a Court Dressmaker and in turn, Gran was a whizz with needlecrafts. She made her own clothes, teddy bears (including knitting and sewing clothing for them), musical dolls, fairies for Christmas trees and much more. I’ll always remember Gran’s grapefruit marmalade and her millionaire’s shortbread, above all else…I guess I’ve inherited Gran’s sweet-tooth too. So to honor her memory, next time you create something beautiful or cook something sinfully delicious, think of her and thank her.
I won’t ramble on any longer, but I’d like to finish by reading a poem, a line of which I read in Gran’s diary, amongst some of her favourite quote and sayings.
Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way, which you always used
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,
Just around the corner.
All is well."
I love you, Gran.
"I’ve hawed and hummed and hummed and hawed over how best to pay tribute to Gran. It’s been a daunting task, trying to encapsulate 97 years of a life well lived in such a short space of time. I’ve come to the conclusion that instead of struggling, I’m better off reaching our for a bit of help, so I’ll be reading some words from others who have gone before me, starting with the lady herself. The first excerpt is from her diary, dated January 5th, 1980
“How ridiculous it all seems, as I very much doubt if this will ever be read – we seem to be on the brink of nuclear war, but who knows? I feel so concerned for my lovely family with such a future. We (I’m guessing Granny & Grandpa) have both had a good life, considering everything, especially the horror of the Second World War. I never asked God to spare me, after all, who am I to be let off from suffering, but to give me the courage to bear suffering.”
The next passage is from a scarp of paper in her diary - I’m not exactly sure when it was written, but I’d guess sometime shortly after she moved to Needham.
“Things I am still able to do: Write letters, play Patience, keep myself clean and well fed, clean my flat, do a little gardening, clean windows, except those damn silly kitchen windows, needlework, enjoy reading and television, cook, swear and fight with my tongue, flirt, smile and enjoy life and my sense of humour keeps me alive, so perhaps I should stop laughing. Keep adding my monies up, love shopping, but not very often, make a very nice marmalade, be compassionate. One thing I miss very much is to sit in front of a real fire, such company when on your own & some poor souls haven’t a bed or roof over their heads.”
In some ways, I think that captures, in a nutshell, how I see Gran. At times, it’s easy for me to forget that she was human, with human strengths and weaknesses. At times, she borders on a mythical, mystical being, something so much larger than a human presence, but I guess that’s due to the love I felt emanating from her, something that can cross oceans, space, time and death. Thinking of and being with Gran always did, and still does, make me feel safe and secure, that all was well in the world and I could forget all my troubles. I feel that’s one of the greatest gifts a human can give another. I’ll quote Gran’s favourite author Dickens, from the ‘Pickwick Papers’,
“The consciousness that we possess the sympathy and affection of one being when all others have deserted us--is a hold, a stay, a comfort, in the deepest affliction, which no wealth could purchase, or power bestow.”
Gran has left us all a cornucopia of other gifts, with which to remember her and with which to honour her memory. Number one, I think, would have to be her wonderful, slightly twisted and perverse sense of humour, which I’d attribute to her Irish father and the difficult, troubled upbringing she had. I know it’s something we all share, and most other folks I know don’t quite get it. I always relish the thought of getting together with my family and then cherish those happy hours for months and years thereafter.
The other major gift she has bequeathed us, I think, would have to be her love of creating – both needlecrafts and cooking. Gran’s own maternal Grandmother was a Court Dressmaker and in turn, Gran was a whizz with needlecrafts. She made her own clothes, teddy bears (including knitting and sewing clothing for them), musical dolls, fairies for Christmas trees and much more. I’ll always remember Gran’s grapefruit marmalade and her millionaire’s shortbread, above all else…I guess I’ve inherited Gran’s sweet-tooth too. So to honor her memory, next time you create something beautiful or cook something sinfully delicious, think of her and thank her.
I won’t ramble on any longer, but I’d like to finish by reading a poem, a line of which I read in Gran’s diary, amongst some of her favourite quote and sayings.
Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way, which you always used
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,
Just around the corner.
All is well."
I love you, Gran.
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