23 February 2021
Today was most exciting for this writer. I unpacked the last of the Move-into-the-New-Home boxes. These cardboard receptacles had been packed and put into storage during the early months of 2017. They contained just about all of my French books, including many purchased from my dear friend in Languedoc-Roussillon, as well as the books that I used for researching THE DAWN.
It was an emotional experience for me on many levels. Joy and gratitude and determination and grief involved several non-linear footsteps in time: going back, moving forward, walking back a few paces to stand still in the souvenir, the moments that I wanted to hold just a bit longer in order to remember a loved one.
Of course, there were tears, but I also felt a serene sense of commitment to the future, to my future, as an American. This past year has been a grievous one for this nation, and for the entire free world. Here in the States, we are mourning some very horrifying losses, some of which are still underway. There have also transpired the noble deaths of certain patriots whose dignity soothes the soul of those who now carry on in their stead. Those profound bereavements have been placed in the hand of God.
You can always count on life to take you to where you need to be, whether you wish to be there or not. Trust in your instincts, and in your Maker to provide you with the best directions for where you need to go. Sometimes your own map lacks the most unerring guideposts. Taking the easiest route does not ensure the prime destination, the finest fulfillment of your self, or the most supreme achievements along those unforeseen highways and byways in life.
Wherever you are along those pathways, be gentle to yourself. There are more than enough loud, obnoxious and odious people out there, waiting to pounce on any kind and sincere soul. Do not swallow the bitterness that belongs to the soulless guy, the rancid gal, the conniver who will not see.
As for me, today I reveled in yet another purge of cheap foreign merchandise. These items I purchased seven years ago, believing they were excellent sewing threads to use for my fabric projects. How wrong was I!
Last week, I discovered an online shop selling threads made in the USA of the highest-grade Egyptian cotton. As a seamstress, I am starting from scratch, buying new spools to match my exquisite standards. This e-tailer is called Superior Threads, and I aim to sew superior clothes with those cotton fibers. I therefore tossed out the poly-coated cotton thread from “Asia”, as the euphemism goes.
Dear Husband strolled into my sewing room, and, upon seeing the wastebasket, he said: “That’s quite a picture.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “It’s worth a thousand words.”
“Oh, not another purge!” My dear hubby laughed.
I’m not alone in my patriotic purges, although the amount of the vulgar stuff that I’ve eighty-sixed pales in comparison to the huge heaps of Chinesium being chucked curbside in India. The benevolent wholehearted deed gives an entirely new and superb meaning to “re-cycle”!
It’s a glorious feeling. The retail import-barn door got closed after all the horses ran out, and now that alien barn is collapsing cause it was built of inferior-grade “Asian” wood.
I say, “Timber!” Make room for superior threads, simply Amish furniture, American Giant, and Palm Beach sandals.