Hobby

A hobby is a wonderful thing to have. You give yourself time to study in depth a particular area perhaps totally unknown to you. You read about it and look up pictures for additional information. You study it and finally you take the first step.

That is how I learned to knit. I was in a new city and knew very few people. I had always heard of knitting but it looked complicated. Well now I had time to tackle something that required time and study. I bought a book, knitting needles and yarn. And I stumbled and fell and tried again and failed again. But I never gave up. I discussed it with friends who knew more than I did. And I practiced some more, and I mastered it.

What this hobby gave me was information I did not possess. It also enabled me to meet people whom I might never have met, for we spoke a common language: knitting. I made gifts of some of my knitting. I did it for pleasure and also with purpose. I knitted while watching television, and on an airplane and in a hospital. My knitting started conversations, and I answered questions.

It opened another road in my life and it has fulfilled me in so many ways. Pursuing a new hobby is much like the famous line from Robert Frost’s Poem, The Road Not Taken, “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

Something I Learned

This may be hard for young people to believe but…in the long run…looks don’t matter. Oh yes, when young, the boys are attracted to the cutest girls and the girls like the best-looking boys. Surprise: when you are mature, those attractions that pulled you like a magnet don’t have the same strength anymore, nor the same value.

So what are the attractions to one another or to friends when one becomes older? I am not referring to romantic relationships but rather relationships in general. People seem to be attracted to genuine folks, those who are honest in their actions, i.e., “I am going to call you.” And the person calls. “I’ll send you the article.” And you receive the article in the mail. Those earnest responses win votes and are remembered.

Also, a caring attitude always attracts attention. A friend tells me, “I know the child acts the way he does because of his home life.” I listen carefully and note my friend is not judgmental and really cares for her student. (I imagine deep in my heart I know that friend cares for me, too.)

Rational thinking and reasonable behavior results in admiration. “I need to think about that before making a decision. I want to do what is right.” The action that follows indicates good judgment. The listener or observer makes a mental note and it is positive.

As our teachers and parents told us: "Beauty is skin deep." They were right after all.

How do you pick your friends? And why did your friends pick you?

The Match

Among Daddy's faithful customers at his business was Mr. Wright, the owner of his own successful business in our small town. Often Mr. Wright stopped to buy gasoline or to have his car serviced and, while there, chatted with Daddy about various topics. On one occasion in the 1950s he stopped to buy gas and to tell Daddy his wife was seriously ill. Concerned about the situation Daddy asked him if there was anything he could do. Mr. Wright, who had consulted various doctors, smiled patronizingly at Daddy and said, “No, there is nothing you can do, but I appreciate your offer to help.” He drove off and left Daddy thinking about what had just occurred, and he told my mother about it.
Mr. Wright appeared again, and voiced his fear for his beloved wife. Daddy listened and again offered to help in any way he could. Mr. Wright appeared a third time and again expressed concern for his wife and asked Daddy if there was any way one of his sons could go and be tested to see what kind of blood he had. Perhaps it would match his wife’s, and he said he would much rather have the blood of one of Daddy’s boys as he knew they lived wholesome lives. Daddy sent my brothers who were healthy football players. Sure enough, Ben’s blood matched Mrs. Wright’s blood, and the transfusion occurred.
Mrs. Wright recovered and displayed her gratefulness by sending over home-cooked pecan pies from time to time especially for Ben; he shared his gifts with us.
The years passed. We graduated from college and Mr. Wright passed away. We married and had families and in time our parents passed away. Mrs. Wright, meanwhile, experienced good health.
From time to time we traveled to reunions in our small town. Mrs. Wright was always present and talked to all of us, but especially to Ben. The last time we saw Mrs. Wright at a reunion she was 104 years old and lived in a nursing home. Her mind, however, was as alert as it had been fifty two years before. At that last reunion she said to Ben who was now seventy years old, “Ben, I want you to know that it was your blood that kept me going all these years. I want to thank you again.”
We still go to reunions, but we miss Mrs. Wright. I thought she would live forever; she might have thought so, too.