A tough week can make us question if we are the right kind of person. Developments in my so-called “professional” life as well as criticisms from peers in all aspects, made me wonder if I should be a different kind of person. After a week of dealing with mean and just downright rude people, I had to take this weekend to try to make a few decisions. Luckily I have a very supportive family.
I needed to get away from all of them to clear my head, so I headed to Cane Hill, AR. Where? Exactly! Cane Hill is a little outside of Fayetteville and this weekend just happened to be the Harvest Festival. Now if you are looking for rides or electronic entertainment, this is not your place. But if you are looking for history, preceded by a HUGE all-you-can-eat breakfast including gravy, sausage, and homemade apple butter in a family-style sitting, this is it.
I will save the history lesson about Cane Hill for your own investigation or for your visit to the location. The families there, many of whom are descendants of the founders, are very proud of their history. You will get civil war reenactments from great-great grandsons. You will see quilts from the 1800's, you will witness sorghum making, and not just part of it. If you want to hang around long enough, you can see the process of the canes being pressed (complete with mule) all the way to trying the finished product. You can also watch the entire 5+ hour process of making lye soap.
More important than any of this, are the people you encounter. These are real people. And while I am sure they have regular jobs with regular bosses, for this weekend, they get to be who they really are. They are cane pressing great-great granddaughters of cane pressers. They are people who realize the importance of passing down a heritage that doesn't include coffee breaks and 401k's. They are people who like hand quilting better than machine quilting. And for this weekend, they are the kind of people who made a beat-down city girl feel good about eating a second helping of gravy. For that, I thank them.
After a trip to the past, I figured out who I am. I am not my job, I am not my third-place ribbon, I am me. I am happy to be me. I'm not saying there isn't improvement to be made. I like to consider myself a work in progress (like most of my quilts). But I also think if you are kind, if you are honest, and your intentions are good, then you are going to be okay. I find I let people judge me. I take the criticism from them without even knowing if they are even qualified to do so. Sometimes we feel a title gives someone the right to tell us that we aren't the best, or we aren't qualified, but we need to take it all in perspective. Some criticize to compensate, some out of fear of being bested, and some just out of ignorance. My best example is my third-place fair ribbon for my “dirty” witches hat...if that judge had only known how long it took me to tea-dye, coffee-stain, and sand that hat to make it look dirty...but I guess I did a pretty good job.
So what I am taking away from the last week and weekend is 1) I am OKAY the way I am, 2) Sometimes the rat-race ends on a glue trap, and 3) the next time some smartypants co-worker asks if I made my homemade candy in my kettle out by my cement pond, I am going to slam his fingers in my candy jar. Some people just don't deserve homemade caramels.
I would also like to thank mom and dad for going with me and humoring me with everything...including the merry-go-round ride that ended in near tragedy. Sorry about the backside. Mom.
Cane Hill Arkansas
Cane Hill Arkansas
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