Who knew that jewelry making could be so much fun?
Who'd of thought that I could do it?
Who'd of thought I could do it and have it actually turn out?
Sure the heck wasn't lil' ol' me.
I had tried beading a time or two as a kid. One word sums it up best. DISASTER!!
That is the word that was used repeatedly by my mother. How did beading go today? It was a Disaster. How did she do this time? It was a Disaster. I don't want to ever take you back cause you turn everything into a DISASTER!!!!
Yep, that's right. That's what I heard repeatedly during a 3 week stint of a trial Beading Class. We were to make these really pretty beaded Angel ornaments for Camp Fire. Instead... I made something that resembled more of a tulip*. Instead I got 3 weeks of the standard comments of "your lazy", "you don't pay attention", "you don't try enough", "your a Disaster", "your a horrible child", etc. etc...
Is it any wonder that I never felt like I could do it?
Meanwhile, my mother got to be good friends with the beading teacher. She saw my mother sitting there waiting and how she seemed both miserable at the dull time of waiting for me to get done and also left out. So the teacher showed her how to work some beads to make doilys to kill the time of waiting for me.
My mother was a natural. She caught the concept of the pattern easily. It wasn't very long at all, that she really took off flying with it. Soon she was creating various sizes and patterns. In fact for one Christmas that was what everyone got along with their regular gift. Some beaded doily or set of beaded doilys.
In the evening after supper, she would get out her beads and bead. I would always find some excuse to be near her workspace and watch her. Depending on her mood I would either be allowed to sit near her or be sent scurrying off with different items, packages of beads more often than not or else something small and handy and just as effective, chucked at my head or chased off by her with a wooden spoon in one hand.
Sometimes when I was allowed to remain she would talk to me usually it was to rub in further what a heart breaker I was to her. She would often list my many faults especially if my step-dad (then) was in the room or in hearing range. Othertimes, she would be nicer and she would talk to me about what she was doing and who she was making it for. On extremely rare occassions she would ask my opinion or help in picking out the color combos for the next project.
She never offered to let me learn from her. Nor did she encourage me to attempt another beading project after the trial period was up. She also really disliked anyone attempting to suggest that she should teach me or that another project should be tried by me.
So I stopped thinking about it. The pain was just too great. But don't get me wrong. That wasn't my only attempt to learn how to bead.
I had a friend who was Native American. Her mom, aunts, sisters, dad, brothers, and numerous other family relations all beaded. They beaded earrings, they beaded moccasins, they beaded amulets, they beaded dresses. They did simple beading like what I am now learning to do. They did complex picture beading that helped to tell stories and where used in their family traditions and ceremonies. They used a loom to do some beading projects. They also did it for competition, honor and to strengthen the bond in the family.
I always admired their beading projects. I once rudely wished for a pair of earrings. I was so surprised, and very, very happy when I got a pair of earrings for my birthday from my friend. I think I thanked them about a zillion + times for several weeks. lol
That lead in the elder aunt suggesting that they try to teach me a basic design. Nothing sacred, nothing complicated, just two basic colors repeated on a thread. I could if mastered make a simple necklace or loop earrings.
It went pretty well. There wasn't much I could screw up in the work I did. After all I had to do was string the beads x amount of one color then y amount of another onto a single thread to form a chain of beads. Since I could easily do this with macarroni, it wasn't too bad for me to do. Although I will admit that it took a long time to get those itty bitty seed beads to get on my needle and thread without scattering every where or coming off. These solid lines of colors where used to make dangle earrings. The kind that have just loops but several loops on a wire...
So then they moved me on to a bit more complicated piece. Same two colors, similar pattern but with more than a single solid straight line. There were 4 rows and some sewing involved. I was excited to be able to move up to a level that the youngest 4 year old was doing. I felt pretty good about that project when it was done, too. Granted it wasn't flat and smooth like thiers but it was accepted since I was a novice and not born to beading like the family members where. I just needed a lot more practice they said.
So then came the next disaster. My mother was wondering where my money was going as she wasn't finding things around the house like candy wrappers, craft supplies, tapes, etc. She had heard I wasn't going to the candy stop any more nor was I going to the ice cream shoppe. She followed me and caught me going to the bead place with the elder aunt. She got suspicious. So, she decided that my next playdate she had to come along, much to my horror.
I was going to start a new project. Under her watchful eye and polite conversation I knew that I had to prepare for a major outbreaking of her wrath when we returned home. Knowing that something dreadful was going to happen but not knowing what... I started to sweat. I had pieces of my heart chipped away as I listened to the conversations with my mother flow around me. Her utter dismay and accusations about my work chipped away at my center. Instead of being focused, I was scattered. Instead of feeling competent, I felt like an idiot. I messed up very badly in the end. I again,had created yet another disaster.
When I got home I paid a heavy price for my deception. By the time I got back ties with my friend had been completely and irrepairably severed. I gave up on beading anything. At last the lesson had been beat into my thick skull, although a small part of me longed for another chance.
We moved. I got a job cleaning greenware for a local ceramics maker. One day in helping her straight up the room I came across a box of beading things. We struck up a conversation about beading. She didn't seem to be too horrible about it. At the very least she was very different than my parents. After work, I went home and dug out the instructions for those angels I had once upon a time tried to make. It took me several weeks to drag up the courage to give her the instructions.
When I finally did. She took them and read then through and then laughed out loud. I felt all my spirit drain away. I steeled myself for another lecture about failure. Turned out that she knew why I had failed. She said that it wasn't my fault and that anyone working my instructions that actually knew a bit about beading would have figured out why I kept failing. Both the instructions and the kit I was given had errors in them. My kit was missing two very crucial pieces that should have been clearly caught right off the bat or at least after I completed step 2 because up to that point both patterns where the same. Had I had the center body piece, I could have copied the others and completed a different angel. Instead, I made tulips because that's what my instructions from step 3 on where for. No one had ever considered that the instructions might be faulty nor did any one consider that the kit might not be for something else. With this knowledge a little spark came to life.
Part One....
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