Rebecca’s daughter made me the pot holder on the left, with the edge that makes it resemble a post-postmodern museum display on handwork and domesticity. Click on the thumbnail to see the exotic detailing. It’s a kick-ass pot holder, because I can loop it over my wrist while I’m hovering next to the stove like a fairy with an anxiety disorder. She told her mother she needed to make one for me (no birthday or holiday involved), and did. What brought that on, we’ll never know. My daughter, who is two years older, made the one with the beautiful colors on the right. I love both pot holders EQUALLY, OK?
Almost every time I look at them, I find myself thinking about the urge some of us have to make things, and the desire to give those things away. It’s not a completely angelic impulse (at least in my case), but I find the mix of generosity and pride fascinating. And it’s so visible in children.
I wrote up an interlibrary loan for a book by Marcel Mauss while I was finishing this post :-). I have no explanation for that which sounds even remotely normal.