Inspiration for Mary Jane

The other day my mom called to read me the inscription on the birthday card she was sending to Mary Jane Hogan. On November 7^th Mary Jane will spend her 83^rd birthday in a nursing home in Indiana. I believe she once shared a room with her husband John, but she's a bit too out of it too fully understand the conversation. So out of it in fact, that she's recently accused me of calling too much even when I hadn't called. She's not sure where her husband is. I want to call and wish her well, but given her mental condition, its better that Mom calls her weekly and sends cards and tea to brighten her spirits. This time she had requested that mom mail the card early so she could have more time to enjoy it.

Mary Jane was to more to me when I was growing up than just my babysitter; she was a crafting genius. Their apartment was a makeshift craft store, not just of purchased supplies, but of gathered bits and pieces, found objects, and recycled parts that could one day become projects. She was constantly learning new crafts and techniques (on her own) and each year for Christmas she would make all of her dozens of cards using a different technique, using watercolors, acrylics, or even needlepointed plastic canvas. I didn’t just go there when Mom needed a babysitter; I went there for fun. Why go out and play when I could decoupage, paint, cross stitch, bead, cut, glue, and sew? The irony is that the only crafts I can think of that she didn’t partake in were knitting and crochet (also she didn’t own a sewing machine at that time of her life). If I were about to undertake an ambitious new craft or school project, I would run down to Mary Jane’s for some tea and guidance. Even in college she attempted to guide me through a beaded silk dress and a 5’ vinyl cheeseburger in the style of Claes Oldenburg. I miss those days and I’ll bet she does too. There are crafts in the nursing home; however she doesn’t bother to participate because she says that she’s better than the teacher.

Mom called again today after opening a letter from Mary Jane’s niece in Indiana. John passed away on October 10^th, and Mary Jane just can’t comprehend where he went. She asked us to pray for Mary Jane and keep sending cards. I wish I could just rush down to Indiana and hug her. I’d like to fill my car with craft totes and works in progress and tell her I need her. Maybe she just needs some one to teach. I’m going to call her later and tell her that I’m still here, receiving her creativity, love, and inspiration.