It was my sister who inspired me: She’s been a nurse for years; it’s not a job, it’s who she is. She lives, eats, and breathes to take care of others in need. And since she’s been battling Stage 4 cancer, she’s been sheltering in place longer than anyone. Although she cannot care for patients any longer, she still wanted to help out, so she got started making fabric face masks for her former nursing co-workers on the front lines in the hospital. Then friends and family members started asking her for some, too. She ramped up production in her living room, and sewed up 50 masks before it occurred to me that it was time for me to step up and do the same.
Our grandmother taught us how to sew when we were little girls. She was a tough taskmaster, insisting that every step be done “a certain way.” We were good students, and absorbed her lessons well, not a shortcut in sight. Since then, I have approached sewing with a combination of respect for Mama and reverence for the special act of transformation that turns flat fabric and spools of thread into a complete garment or functional item. Now I’m the grandmother, placing faith in sewing, for the protection of my own little granddaughter — making masks for her out of remnants of dresses I made in very different days.
I rummaged through the stored sewing supplies in the attic and grabbed up what I needed to get to work: The long neglected sewing machine, the bins of fabric, scissors, rotary cutter and mat, the long ruler, bobbins, and thread. Then I spied the best thing ever for the ties: Large rolls of natural-colored cotton twill tape purchased a long time ago when we used to bundle special packs of hiking books from our publishing company that we hand-sold at the crowded Los Angeles Times Book Festivals — what seems like a million years ago.