Knots

I can stitch a French knot. 

This isn't remarkable, not really. Most seasoned embroiderers can stitch a French knot. Hell, most beginner embroiderers can do a French knot. I, however, have never been able to do them. I've been embroidering for almost 15 years, and it's one of those stitches that I could never grasp. I tried different techniques, but my practice knots were a big old mess. So I avoided French knots when I would create a piece. I learned ways to fake it, and my embroidery didn't suffer because I couldn't make a knot. Most people I make things for don't know what a French knot is, so it's fine. I can make a really beautiful piece with a back stitch, split stitch, and some cross stitches. 

Then I had an idea. Back in February, I asked my friend Kelly if she'd like to try an art experiment. I wanted to see what my embroidery would like over a painting. I don't paint, but Kelly is a gifted painter. I thought it would be fun to collaborate on something, and see if this would work. Embroidering on paper is one of my favorite things, but I had only done small scale work before (cards, little experiments in my sketchbook). Kelly agreed to try it out, and I gave her free reign over the subject and no timeline. Whenever she got to it would be fine. I was in no hurry to do anything. 

Well, of course, the universe has a way of making things happen. As we both stayed at home like good citizens, we had more time to devote to creative projects. By the end of April, I had four paintings in my house, waiting for me to embroider. Two landscapes and two florals. The second I opened the package I knew one thing: I would have to learn how to stitch a French knot. The flowers demanded French knots. And I didn't want to disappoint them. 

I taught myself how to embroider in 2006. I had finally come back to New Orleans after evacuating from Hurricane Katrina. I wrote about my post-K experiences in New Orleans at the start of the pandemic; there are a lot of parallels between the two experiences. It's not the same, but it's not not the same. One of the reasons I picked up embroidery was that I needed something to do in the evenings, in the quiet. Things weren't open, especially not when I first came back right after Thanksgiving. Most of my friends weren't back or weren't coming back, so I spent a lot of time alone. Work was weird (this is an understatement) and often mentally exhausting. Curfews were in place and the National Guard was still in town to help maintain order/peace/whatever. It was and wasn't New Orleans. Teaching myself to embroider gave me something to do that didn't require anyone else to be around, and I had everything I needed to make stuff, so I didn't have to go out. 

Keep in mind this was 2006, so while the internet was a big part of all of our lives, it wasn't what it is today. There weren't hundreds of YouTube channels devoted to embroidery. Sublime Stitching, the design studio where I bought my first kit, was one of the few companies around. The first kit included transfer patterns (I still have many of them), a hoop (still use it), a stitching guide, and some fabric to get started. Most of the basic stitches, back stitch, split stitch, stem stitch, were relatively easy to pick up. If you can do those three, you can embroider. I would eventually add chain stitch, satin stitch, and various techniques for the leaf stitch to my stitch repertoire. Some of my stuff was good, some of it was a hot mess. I embroidered postcards, place mats, pillowcases, bar towels, cloth napkins. I made gifts for people (I doubt they use any of it) and I made things for myself (I used everything until it fell apart). Embroidery kept me grounded in a time when nothing worked the way it was supposed to and everything was sad all the time.  

Since then, I've embroidered when I had time or the mood struck me. A few years ago, I started Wine & Crafts Day with some friends, and I used that time to embroider when I wasn't working on glitter purses. But I didn't challenge myself. It was all stuff I could do without thinking much - just pick the thread colors and stitch away. There's nothing wrong with that, but it's not particularly fulfilling as a hobby or as art. 

When stay at home orders began, I was working on my first commissioned piece. The wife of one of my co-workers saw the Tiger Stadium piece I made for my brother and asked me to make one for her. Once I finished that piece at the end of March, I needed to keep going. Once again, embroidery was filling the time I would normally have been out doing other things or commuting. The Tiger Stadium piece is my own design, so I decided to do more of my own patterns. I did one for Mardi Gras. I started designing embroidered postcards. And then there were the paintings. I needed to work on the paintings. 

Which brings me back to the French knot. My embroidery library has grown quite a bit since 2006. I decided to try one of my newer books, Edgy Embroidery, first before trying a YouTube video. I don't know if it was the visual guides in the book or author Renee Rominger's "you can do it" style of writing, but for whatever reason, the stitch finally clicked for me. I stitched a French knot. 

I can't even begin to tell you how incredibly satisfying it was to make these first three French knots. Fourteen years! Maybe I needed the muscle memory of 14 years worth of other stitches to finally make this happen. I don't know. I have no idea how the brain actually works. Thankfully, my brain decided to fully embrace the French knot. Not only can I stitch knots on fabric, but I figured out how to do them on paper. Carefully. 

Armed with my new stitch knowledge, I designed the stitch patterns for the two floral painting, including lots of French knots. I needed to make up for 14 lost years with no French knots. Making French knots is soothing. I know most embroiderers hate them, but do them anyway since they add texture and dimension to a piece. But I really love them. I feel about French knots the way some people feel about yoga - relaxed and quiet. French knots quiet my brain. 

Since finishing the paintings, I've started incorporating French knots in other projects too. I did a few kits recently, and was excited to see French knots included. 

I'm working on my first embroidered portrait and it has French knots. I took a little artistic license and made the knots a little smaller than the pattern indicated. I'm mildly obsessed with the result:

I have a bunch of projects to work on once I finish the portrait, and one of them is a project made entirely of  French knots. I made my own pattern, and plan to use shades of orange and pink to fill in the design. If I like it, I plan to make this pattern into a series with some additional touches. If I don't like it, well, I'm going to like it. It's French knots in orange and pink. I didn't know I needed French knots in orange and pink until I was sitting at home for the 40th or 50th day in a row and finally figured out how to stitch a French knot. 

Thank you Jenny Hart (of Sublime Stitching) for teaching me to embroider 14 years ago (not in person, but you know what I mean) and thank you Renee Rominger for teaching me how to make a French knot. And thank you Kelly for agreeing to try this whole painting/embroidery experiment that "forced" me to learn the French knot. I look forward to our next collaborative piece, whatever that may be.

Who knew tiny stitches would help me find some level of control in an otherwise chaotic universe?

Stay safe. Wear your mask. Wash your hands. Be nice to one another. Vote. Black Lives Matter. 

Do one thing

I'm not really in the mood to have a birthday this year. My mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday and my response was "I guess cake?" Normally, I love celebrating my birthday, but it feels weird this year, not just because of social distancing. It's weird to think about celebrating when all I really want to do is burn things down (both metaphorically and literally). 

When I was thinking about this whole birthday thing this week, I thought "I should ask my network to do something for me. That would be cool." I don't like to ask people to do things for me on my birthday, but I'm making an exception this year. I feel like y'all can handle it. 

My request may seem simple, and in many ways, it is. BUT it's also not. It requires you to do some work and to be the good citizen I know you can be. You know how I love being a good citizen. Sometimes being a good citizen means putting your shopping cart in the shopping cart return area or wearing a mask in a public place. Other times, it means doing my favorite thing in the world:

VOTING

We are at a crucial place in history. The next several election cycles will have a substantial impact on the future of our country, up and down the ballot. The choices we make in these elections will impact all branches of the federal government in more ways than a president or members of Congress. You're voting for Supreme Court justices, federal judges, funding for programs that protect healthcare, immigration rights, civil rights, the fairness of our elections, and regulations that impact our planet. State and local elections have the potential to change the way policing works in this country, not to mention the impact on education and state economies. This is the reality of the next several election cycles. 

Are you registered to vote? Take the time today to ensure you are registered to vote. You can check your registration status by going to sites like Vote.Org or Rock the Vote (for all you 90s kids out there). You can also Google your state and voter registration to connect to your state's department of elections (or voter registration) to register. It takes under 10 minutes to register and you don't have to leave your house. 

Once/If you're registered to vote, make sure to confirm some additional items:

• Get the address of your physical polling place. For those of you who already are registered, check to see if it moved. This happens all the time, and can cause confusion when you go to vote. 
• Know the hours polling will be open - if you are in line before the end of polling hours, you can still vote. 
• Understand the identification requirements for your state.
• Check into mail-in and absentee ballot rules for your state. Not all states are allowing for mail-in ballots because of COVID-19. so you need to know what you're able to do and how to do. 
• Educate yourself on the ballot. You need to know what positions and ballot initiatives will be on the ballot. Find candidates that support your values and learn about initiatives because your tax dollars pay for them. 

All of this information can be found on your state's department of elections website. 

Don't let anyone tell you voting doesn't matter. We are where we are today because it does. The systems we have in place in the United States are designed to protect and benefit white people. That's the reality. If this makes you uncomfortable, well, too bad. Because of this reality, voting plays a significant role in how those systems work, are changed, are funded, and are dismantled. Because of this reality, our vote matters so much.

Let's use an example. 

Say you live in a town where the director of the town animal shelter is an elected position. On first glance, this seems like a pretty straightforward elected position. It should be an apolitical position; they're helping animals find new homes. You didn't take time to learn anything about the person running, so you vote for them because A. they're the only one on the ballot and B. it's the animal shelter - it doesn't matter that much. (Side bar: I adopted my pets from shelters, so please don't think this is me saying management of animal shelters doesn't matter. It absolutely does, but this is an example so go with it. Also, many people think this exact thought about local elections and local ballot measures - they all matter, but we don't treat them with the same gravity of voting for President.)

The newly elected animal shelter director takes office and seems to be doing a good job. Animal adoptions are steady. Pets are well taken care of. It looks like the shelter is an awesome example of a community resource. BUT long-time employees and volunteers are leaving at a much higher percentage than normal, most citing "culture" or "hostile work environment" as the reason. The applications for pet adoptions from black applicants are accepted at a lower rate than white applicants despite the application numbers being similar in terms of volume. While it's concerning, you don't think about the possibility of it being related to racism. Someone would have told you if the director was racist. You would have heard that before the election. It's probably just the newness of this person in the position, you think. It can't be racism. You move on with your day and forget about the election of the animal shelter director. 

A few years pass and we're at the next election cycle. The animal shelter director is now running for school board. Again, you vote for this person because they did a good job as director and you heard they wanted to improve class size and look at funding some after school programs focused on engineering. Those are good things, right? They win again, and now the school board is voting on a measure to omit black history curriculum from all schools. Guess who proposed that measure? That's right, the former animal shelter director. Debate gets heated, and the animal shelter director/now school board member uses a derogatory word to describe a black member of the board arguing against the measure and makes other racist comments. You're horrified - you didn't realize you voted for a racist. No one told you this person is racist. 

I get that this is an oversimplification of a very complex problem, but it illustrates my point. If you don't do the work to know who you're voting for, you've allowed someone to voice your opinion for you. You might not be a racist, but you voted for one whether you knew it or not. Not only did they do something racist in your name since you voted for them, you also allowed the system to continue to work in the way it has for centuries. When we don't exercise our right to vote or we don't educate ourselves about what/who we're voting for or we don't fight to make voting equitable for all citizens, we're allowing those in power to take more power from us. They're our elected officials...they work for us, not the other way around. I started working on political campaigns when I was 17, before I could vote. Those early campaigns taught me this. They taught me the true power of the people and why it matters that I exercise my right to vote.

Yes, I'm a white woman who grew up in the suburbs. I have a college degree. My parents aren't divorced. I'm in good health. My privilege is a big, flashing neon sign. I can't change those things about myself, but I can continue to educate myself and use the things that afford me privilege to change the way things are for the better. I can stand up for people who need it, AND I can stand up to people who are racist. I can spend money supporting black-owned businesses. I can donate to organizations that help drive these changes forward. I can boycott organizations and companies that don't or who actively promote racist beliefs (#notmycaptain for those of you from New Orleans). I can march and protest. I can vote. 

And so can you. 

So on this day, the start of my 41st year on Earth, in the middle of the weirdest timeline of my life, I ask you to do one thing: 

VOTE! 

If you're feeling excited and motivated today and want to take my birthday request a step further, here are a few more things you can do/read/learn:

• Take actions to bring Breonna Taylor's killers to justice. Taylor's killers have not been arrested, and it was reported yesterday that the police report regarding her murder was virtually blank. Really? 
• Side note: today is also Cate Young's birthday. She's the woman behind the action website. Happy Birthday, Cate!
• Donate! There are so many great organizations out there who need help right now. Here are a few to get you started:
• Black Visions Collective
• Black Lives Matter
• The Trevor Project - it's also Pride Month. The Trevor Project focuses on mental health support for LGBTQ youth. Check out their resources on helping Black LGBTQ youth. 
• Take a look at this article for a longer list of organizations, bail funds, and victim memorial funds you can support.
• Learn about racism from Elmo's Dad - if it takes a puppet to teach you why racism is wrong, then it takes a puppet.
• Join the NAACP. 
• Let Lizzo remind you that it's not black people's jobs to teach anyone about racism. Seriously, it's not. Do the work.  
• Follow some new voices on social media.
• Support black-owned businesses. Here's a list of Etsy shops and an article highlighting 75 businesses from Forbes. You can use Google to find more. 

Next week: Transient Suburbia returns! We'll pick up with chapters 14 and 15.

Transient Suburbia, Chapters 11-13

Enjoy chapters 11-13 of my novel! More here on what this is all about. 

Chapter Eleven

Harper, 9/7/91

            Aloha! My parents went to Hawaii in August for their anniversary and they keep saying “Aloha”. It means hello and goodbye. They brought me back a ukelele...something else to learn.

How’s the new school? Are they treating you well in Virginia? Did Flannery make cheerleading? Do you have someone to eat lunch with? I think that’s the worst part of school - lunch tables. Danny gets to go off campus for lunch starting next year. I’m jealous.

My buddy Adam and I are going to start a band. He’s a year older but we live next door to each other and have been friends for a few years. He plays guitar (better than me) but can’t sing. I can sing and sort of play guitar. There’s a girl in his class who plays bass and has a place for us to practice. I don’t know her but Adam says she’s cool. I guess we just need a drummer. 

Aloha, 

Ben

Ben, 9/25/91

Aloha! That’s sort of fun - “Aloha”. “Aloha.” How do you know if you’re starting or ending a conversation? Did you get to go anywhere fun while they were in Hawaii? I bet you say “Aloha” now just to get on their nerves. :) :)

School is ok. I’m scared that I’m going to get lost and always be late. I hate being late. The building is huge. 7th & 8th graders stay on the east side of the building for the most part. The cafeteria and gym are closer to the high school side, not quite in the middle of the building. It takes so long to get back to the east side; I’ve been late to English twice (it’s after PE). I need a shortcut. Walker’s trying to help me find one.

Let’s see, what else? Flannery made cheerleading but isn’t captain. She fits right in and is back to her old self. She even took me shopping last weekend which she never does. I let her buy me a purple dress instead of the black dress I really wanted. It seemed to make her happy. Walker is trying out for baseball in the spring and doing something with student council. All is right in twin world.

I’ve made one friend so far and some maybe friends through her. Her name is Amelia. She marched (that’s the best word for it) right up to me on the first day and said, “You’re new. We’re going to be best friends. “ She’s cool. We like a lot of the same stuff and for a 7th grader she seems to know everyone, even some seniors. Some of her friends are nice, some are a little weird but in a good way. We all eat lunch together so there’s that. Amelia and I have homeroom, gym, and math together. I’m in honors English and she’s not. She takes drama and I’m in newspaper. My first VA slumber party is on Friday. We’re going to a football game and then to Amelia’s. Should be fun.

The band sounds like a great idea! You also need a band name...

Aloha,

Harper

Dear Ben, April 1, 1992

I promise that the following story is not an April Fools Day joke.

Do you have to take PE? I have to go every day. It’s the worst. You know I don’t like sports; running isn’t too bad and I’m ok at volleyball but everything else is pretty rough. Anyway, to add more awfulness to PE, we have to take dance lessons.

DANCE LESSONS IN PE CLASS!!!!!!!!!!!

Who thinks this is a good idea? There’s a middle school dance at the end of April and our gym teachers decided that all of the 7th and 8th graders have to take dance lessons. There are two 7th grade gym teachers, Coach Davis (male) and Coach Wilson (female). He also coaches middle school and JV track and basketball and she coaches all girls’ JV sports. They’re in their 30s, I think, so they’re like old and don’t get that we don’t need dance lessons. It’s so stupid.

Coach Davis is my teacher. PE is my 2nd class of the day so I have to sprint from one end of the school to the other, change, and be on the court in 10 minutes. It’s next to impossible. Coach told us before Spring Break that we’d have to start dance lessons when we came back but everyone thought he was joking. He’s pretty funny but was being totally serious. We have to learn the Twist, the waltz, the Electric Slide, the two-step, and some other line dance I can’t remember. I might actually die of embarrassment before the dance even gets here.

Coach Davis and Coach Wilson decided the best thing to do would be to combine our classes for dance lessons. They have to be partners to demonstrate the dances so everyone is making up stories about them being a couple and everything. So the first class goes something like this: they partner us up to learn our first dance, the waltz. There’s an even number of boys and girls and I get paired with Bobby Clark, the biggest jerk in 7th grade. NO ONE likes him. We have to hold hands which is gross. He doesn’t seem to understand “dance space”  like in Dirty Dancing. He stepped on my toes, put his hands in the wrong place, and is being a total jerk. It’s terrible but Coach Davis won’t let me switch partners. No one would take him anyway. The coaches also showed us something they call “the 7th grade hang” which is basically hugging and dancing at the same time. They called this “what not to do” so of course that’s all stupid Bobby wants to do. Blah. We get to learn the Electric Slide next so at least I won’t have to deal with Bobby when that happens.

Amelia told me to relax. It’s not like I have to go to the dance with him. She thinks he likes me. She told me that’s how you know a boy likes you; if he’s mean to you. I told her that is one of the stupidest things I’ve ever heard. If that’s true, I hope no boy ever likes me. You’re a boy - what do you think?

Flannery says all the dances they’re teaching us are worthless and old fashioned. She thinks it’s all babyish and has been trying to teach me dances from music videos she likes. My dancing is not good. I look like Joan Cusack in Sixteen Candles without the neck brace. This whole thing has catastrophe (new vocab word) written all over it.

Harper

Dear Harper, 4/10/1992

Dance class?! Where exactly did you move? We don’t have to do that in my PE class. I don’t think anyone cares how we dance at dances. We have an end of school dance too. It’s in May. I guess I’m going to go. I hadn’t thought about it until you mentioned your dance. Dances are kind of lame in my book but my friends will probably want to go so I guess I will too.

This Bobby guy definitely likes you. We tend to pester (vocab word) girls when we like them. I don’t understand it but those are the rules. You should stomp on his foot the next time he does something you don’t like. That’ll teach him. So are the coaches really a couple? Is everyone talking about them? That’s what would happen at my school if two teachers were dancing together. How hard is the Electric Slide? I feel like that’s a dance my parents would like.

You should make your brother “talk” to this Bobby guy. If that doesn’t do it, I guess I’ll just have to come there and take care of him. Nobody puts Baby in the corner (isn’t that what they say in Dirty Dancing?).

B

Aloha Harper 5/20/1992

I haven’t heard from you in awhile. How was the dance? Did you rock the Electric Slide? Did Bobby act like a proper gentleman? Did your PE teacher announce that he’s marrying the other PE teacher? I need some details Harper.

Our dance was pretty lame. I mostly stood off to the side and made fun of people with my friends. They played a lot of crappy music so none of my group wanted to dance. The DJ wouldn’t play any of the songs we requested. The only song we danced to was “No Rain” by Blind Melon. I got to meet Adam’s friend, Jane, the one that plays the bass. She’s cool. I think this band could work.

Ben

Aloha Ben, June 1, 1992

I’m so sorry I haven’t written in forever. My family is moving to France for the summer. Crazy right? My dad has to go over for work for like six months and my parents decided we’d all go for the summer. The end of the school year has been super busy since we’ve all had to get  passports and a bunch of other stuff to travel. I also started taking basic French classes; I’m getting pretty good. My mom says I get to be in charge of talking to people once we get there. Anyway, we leave right after school gets out and will be back in the middle of August. I’ll try to send you some letters once we’re settled and I figure out how the French postal system works. It can’t be that hard. Barney’s going to Michigan to run around my grandparents’ yard. I think he’ll like it more than Paris.

The dance ended up being ok. Bobby didn’t bother me thankfully. He was too interested in Amelia. Guess she got that one wrong; he likes her not me. I didn’t really dance too much and it was kind of boring. Maybe dances get better in high school.

Glad you met Jane. Any progress on a band name?

Au revoir!

Chapter Twelve

Burke, Virginia, September 19, 1993, Ninth Grade

School had been in session for two weeks. It was Sunday night and Harper was finishing up her civics homework. She didn’t really want to go to school tomorrow but couldn’t think of an excuse. Her mother never believed her when she said she didn’t feel well. She couldn’t lie like her brother when it came to faking illnesses. Harper called him Ferris Bueller, Jr.; his skills were that impressive. It wasn’t that Harper didn’t like school; she enjoyed school more than most of her friends. It was more that she didn’t feel like she fit in. The school was enormous and even though it had been two years since she moved to Burke, she hadn’t figured out her group yet. Flannery and Harper had been less than thrilled with finishing their high school years at a new school but they figured it out. They were good at fitting in.

Harper had made one really good friend since moving to Virginia. Amelia Bennett marched right up to Harper on her first day and made her feel right at home. Amelia was good at making people feel like they were special; she was like a hostess in training. She actually wanted to be a flight attendant or an actress so it all made sense.Their group was an odd mix of quiet readers like Harper, artsy kids like Amelia, and kids who didn’t quite fit in any group yet. Harper knew it took time to settle in; moving as much as she had in her young life made her very aware of being the new kid in school. She still felt that way even after two years; so many of the kids had been friends since kindergarten. Harper didn’t have their history.

Harper had a few letters to write so she could make the Monday mail. She wanted to check in with her siblings. Flannery had opted to move south and was in a design program at the Savannah College of Art and Design. Walker had gone back to Michigan but broke with family tradition and went to Michigan State rather than the University of Michigan. His decision had caused some tension in the house at the end of the year. Harper thought her parents were finally coming around. She missed the twins.It was odd being the center of her parents’ attention all of the time. It made her feel like an animal in a zoo exhibit; they were always watching her.

Most importantly, she owed Ben a letter. It was her week to write and she needed to send her letter at the start of the week. Ben sent her a four page letter last week full of music recommendations and books he was reading. He was learning to play Motorhead songs now and was starting another band (apparently). Ben’s band had been an obsession since the seventh grade. He just couldn’t find the right drummer. Or so he said. Harper had a feeling that he was just being Ben; full of ideas but not so great on follow through.

She finished her homework and got up to stretch a bit before starting her letter. Barney raised his head when she got up; poor dog probably thought she was going to take him for a walk. He realized his error and went back to napping. Harper looked around her room and smiled. This was her favorite room of all the houses they had lived in over the years. It had a window seat that looked over the backyard and across the neighborhood. That’s where she liked to sit and write her letters to Ben. She liked looking outside while she was writing. It reminded her of the window in the apartment they had in Paris the summer they lived there; she could see for miles. Her stationery was no longer the generic geometric patterns of fourth grade; the paper was ivory and had owls along the edge and on the envelope. Her brother bought it for her before he left for college.

Ben sent her a mixtape with his last letter. She only got through part of it; the songs were a mix of heavy metal, glam rock, and more Led Zeppelin. Her brother liked some of the bands on the tape so she sort of knew the music. She was particularly enamored of Metallica and Pantera. Both were completely unlike any other music she liked; she remembered a time when she feared Metallica’s music. She still loved her Big Star but had found Bowie and Lou Reed and was getting into bands like X and Rancid. Loud and aggressive with a side of glam sadness; that’s how she described her musical tastes. She had also started listening to some of the bands who called themselves Riot Grrls. One of the girls in Amelia’s drama class had given Harper a tape of Bikini Kill and Bratmobile. She hadn’t quite figured it out yet. Before she started her letters she changed into her pjs and took off the owl necklace she wore everyday. It had been a gift from Ben for her birthday a few years ago. It was her favorite piece of jewelry.

Ahoy Ben, September 19, 1993

Did you know that “ahoy” was used as a greeting for letters and early telephone conversations? It’s like saying hello but sounds better. Like we’re pirates or something. I’ve decided to begin all correspondence with “ahoy” from now on. I need a trademark phrase and it’s a good one.

I’m listening to side B of the mixtape you sent me. I’ve decided that I’m a fan of loud and aggressive music despite the fact that I am neither loud nor aggressive. I’ve listened to that L7 song about 40 times already; my mother has asked me to turn it down more than once. I think she’s sad that I’m no longer listening to Motown records exclusively. If you have the whole L7 album or tape can you make me a copy? They don’t have it at all at Kemp Mill and Tower was sold out.

I’ve also been listening to The Replacements a lot lately. Do you know them? Big Star (my fav) was an influence or so I read. I wasn’t sure what to expect but I really like them.There’s this one song “Can’t Hardly Wait” that I’m obsessed with. And a song called “Alex Chilton.” I’m listening to those two songs, “Pretend We’re Dead”, and Rancid on repeat right now. It’s a little weird I know. I’ll make you a tape this week; you might like the new Tori Amos I got last weekend.

How’s the band? Have you found your drummer yet? Where are you practicing (or is it rehearsing)? Is your dad still mad that you don’t want to play classical music anymore? You should play “Thirteen” for him.

Not a ton to report here. I decided to sign up to work for the crew for the upcoming play. Amelia is auditioning and she thought it would be fun if I worked on the show too. I’m also the only freshman on the newspaper staff. I’m trying to get the editor to let me write about music but so far I only get to cover sporting events and bake sales. I’m sure it’s because I’m the youngest because it’s certainly not because I know anything about lacrosse. I guess I just have to prove myself and enjoy free cupcakes. The perks of being a journalist.

Have you heard from your brother? Does he like New York? Flannery and Walker are doing ok. Mom wants them to come home for Thanksgiving but neither of them want to. I’m sure that an argument is brewing but whatever. They’ll do what they want like always.

Alright friend, I need to get to bed. I tried to think of an excuse to get out of going to school tomorrow but I couldn’t think of anything my mom would believe. I need to be better about making stuff up; I should have paid attention to my brother over the years.

Loud and aggressive in Northern Virginia,

Harper

It wasn’t four pages but it would have to do. Harper’s handwriting was now much neater than Ben’s so it just took him more space. Ben and Harper had been writing to each other since 1988. That was a long time; Ben was her oldest friend. She never thought that day in fourth grade he would come to mean so much to her. They told each other everything. However, Harper didn’t know what Ben looked like or sounded like. In five years they had never exchanged photos or spoken on the phone. They only existed to each other in letters. Harper both loved and loathed this. She really did want to know what Ben looked like but she was afraid knowing would erase some of the magic of their friendship.

She folded up the letter and addressed the envelope. Ben still lived in the same house in Milwaukee. Once she had asked him about living in one place his whole life. He hadn’t really had much of an opinion at the time. She’d have to ask again.

Harper put her letter with her bag so she wouldn’t forget to mail it tomorrow. She got ready for bed and decided to read for a bit. Her brother gave her his Stephen King novels and she was halfway through Carrie. Not exactly bedtime reading but she was enthralled. Her mom hated Harper’s new reading habits but what she didn’t see wouldn’t hurt her.

Chapter Thirteen

“Seriously Harper, you have to find out what he looks like. You’re probably going to marry him and have like 10,000 of his babies so you should at least know whether they’ll be attractive or not. What if he’s super short? Or has a unibrow?” Amelia was flipping through a Seventeen magazine. Harper laughed at the unibrow comment. It was Friday night after rehearsal and she was staying over at Amelia’s. They had tech rehearsal the next morning but kept finding things to talk about rather than going to sleep.

“I don’t think I want to know. If I ask for a picture of him, he’ll want one of me. And I look terrible in every picture I’m in.” Harper was painting her nails black. She was sure her mother would make her take it off the second she got home tomorrow.

“We can get, like, Glamour Shots or something. Or maybe Jess can do your makeup at rehearsal tomorrow and we can take your picture.”

Harper had no interest in either of these options. She hated wearing makeup and thought she looked weird in pictures. Her sister and mother were beautiful; Harper was cute and pretty-ish but not beautiful. If Ben saw her, maybe he wouldn’t like her anymore. That was one of her fears. She did want to know what he looked like but didn’t want him to know what she looked like. This is why being a girl sucked.

“Not happening. I like the way you think but I’m not doing either of those things. He has never asked me for a picture so I’d rather just leave it as it is. It makes our friendship about real things rather than the superficial shit we deal with at school.” Harper grabbed Amelia’s hair dryer and tried to dry her nails faster.

“Don’t ever say I didn’t try to help.” Amelia threw the magazine aside. “Shall we watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer again?”

“Yes let’s.” Harper settled in on some pillows. Amelia would focus her attention on doing her Kristy Swanson impression and planning her wedding to Luke Perry. They could stop talking about Ben and pictures.

Rehearsal ran over by an hour. People were late and still didn’t know their lines. Their director had thrown a fit halfway through rehearsal and yelled at all of them. It was not the way Harper wanted to spend a Saturday. She was on the costume and publicity crews. She spent most of the rehearsal fixing costumes and taking notes for the costume designer, an incredibly bossy senior named Pam. She skipped her lunch break to paint signs for the hallways. She was not entirely sure that theatre was for her but it did have it’s fun parts and the show would probably end up being pretty good.

Amelia’s dad was waiting for them and did not seem pleased that rehearsal had run over. Mr. Bennett had come into the theatre twice and said something to Mr. Hughes, their director. Mr. Hughes didn’t seem to care that he was keeping them an extra hour or that people were waiting. Pam told Harper this happened every show.

Harper was looking forward to getting home and going to bed. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and the day was exhausting. She didn’t have any homework to do so the rest of the weekend was hers to do with as she wanted. Her plan was to make a mixtape for Ben and finish Carrie. She was excited about the mixtape; she knew Ben didn’t know the bands she was into right now. That was one of the things she loved about Ben, although she would probably never say love out loud. He was interested in the stuff she liked even if he didn’t care for it or didn’t know it and she tried to be the same way. It’s what made them such great friends.

Her conversation with Amelia popped into her head a few times during the day and it was on her mind again as she walked into the house. Did she need to know what Ben looked like? Did it matter? It hadn’t mattered in the fourth grade or the seventh grade. Did high school make the difference? Harper had never had a boyfriend and wasn’t particularly interested in Ben being her boyfriend. She didn’t think of him like that. He was her best friend and she didn’t ever want to lose that.

Her parents were in the kitchen cooking dinner and waiting for her to get home. They were very into family dinners now that it was only Harper at home. They wanted to hear about her day and what was going on at school. It was a little exhausting being the center of attention all the time. She didn’t always have interesting things to tell them; Flannery was so much better at that than Harper was.

How was rehearsal? You’re a little late aren’t you?” Her mother stirred spaghetti sauce. She motioned for Harper to sit down at the table. “Dinner's almost ready.”

“Rehearsal was okay. Mr. Hughes threw a tantrum about halfway through the day so we went over. Half the cast doesn’t know their lines and the costume designer is in over her head. It’s still sort of fun but I don’t know if it’s what I want to do all the time. The newspaper is more my speed.” Harper played with her fork.

“It’s good to have a variety of activities on your resume for college but you should do what makes you happy.” Her dad brought salad and bread to the table. “Could you pour water for everyone, Harp?”

She got up and grabbed the water jug from the refrigerator. She thought about what her dad said. “I want to be a writer so I think I should focus on that. I’m submitting some stories to the literary journal too. I’m going to start pitching pieces to the editor at the paper. He only lets me write sports stories and fluffy pieces. I know nothing about any of the sports I’m assigned to I cover and I am tired of covering bake sales.”

Her dad smiled, “That’s my girl! You have to fight for what you want. Make that editor see how great you are.” Her dad gave her an awkward side hug.

“You got a letter from Ben today. I put it on your desk.” Her mom brought plates to the table. Her mom made excellent spaghetti; Harper should probably learn how to make it sometime.

I love that you two have stayed in touch all these years. And to think, you didn’t want a boy as a pen pal.” Her mom brought this up every time Harper got a new letter.

“I was in fourth grade. All boys were gross and stuff.”

Well, it’s just so nice to see. No one writes letters anymore.” Harper’s mom spent most of her time catching up with friends on the phone.

“I guess I just like being old-fashioned. And I like getting mail so it’s a win-win.”

The rest of dinner was a non-event. Her parents talked about work and about Thanksgiving. Harper replied when necessary. She tried to speed through dinner without being obvious. She wanted to read Ben’s letter and make him a mix. She helped clear the table and finally escaped to her room.

Ahoy matey! Sept. 23, 1993

I thought I’d take ahoy to its natural end and just start referring to you as matey. You may refer to me as Captain from now on.

Loud and aggressive music is now your thing? Should I send some Anthrax (band not poison) your way? Or is it just bands fronted by women? I was going to say chicks but then I thought you’d tell me I was being anti-woman or something. Teenagers are supposed to like loud and aggressive music; it’s a reaction to our parents and their music which was loud and aggressive to their parents. It’s a vicious rock and roll cycle.

As you may be able to tell, my dad is not happy with my choice to stop playing classical music. He thinks that rock musicians are a dime a dozen and that I’ll never be anything special if I play rock music. My argument about the Stones and the Doors and every other successful rock band (including his precious Beatles) is met with a dismissive comment and another round of “I won’t pay for college if you don’t follow my rules.” It’s no wonder Danny went to New York as soon as he was able. My dad means well, I guess, he just has a skewed world view.

No drummer yet. Adam and Jane didn’t like the last guy so we’re still trying to find that perfect match. The drummer is really important, you know? He (or she) keeps us together and none of the guys have worked out so far. We’re having auditions next Saturday. Jane’s parents let us use their garage for practice as long as we don’t trash the place. They live further out of town than Adam and I so there aren’t as many neighbors around to complain about the noise. I’m saving up to buy my first electric guitar; I’m using one of Adam’s right now. We need a name too. Right now we’re going by This Band Sucks. Not a great choice but it’s the best we’ve come up with.

Tell that editor to give you a chance. He doesn’t know he has the next Lester Bangs or that woman writer you told me about (I’m terrible at names). What would be your musical spin? You probably have to have a hook or something. I don’t know much about journalism but I’m sure I’ve heard that before. How is the play? Is Amelia the star? She seems like the kind of person who would be the star. What crew are you on? I’m playing in the pit for the orchestra in the spring. We’re doing “Grease” for the 400th time in this school’s history. I guess it’s ok - not really my thing but I need range so being in the pit is a good thing in the end.

Haven’t heard of The Replacements before but I’m sure if you like them I will too. I ended up enjoying Big Star after your 47th mixtape so send it my way. I have to buy some more tapes before I can send you the L7 tape. I should send you a few other things too; lots of good music these days.

Are you visiting family in Michigan this summer? We might be in Detroit for some work conference my dad has to go to and I thought if we were there at the same time we might be able to meet. No big deal if you’re not going to be there but I thought I’d ask.

So I need some advice about something and I thought you might be able to help. Our homecoming dance is coming up soon and my bandmates want to go. They’re a couple and I don’t want to be that guy that has to pose for his photo alone or be a third wheel. There’s this girl, Jenny, in my English class. She seems nice and doesn’t have a boyfriend that I know of. How should I ask her? Do I go all John Cusack on her or should I play it cool and just pass her a note or something? How would you like to be asked to a dance?

I realize my last few letters have been super long. Hope I’m not complaining too much or whatever. I just like talking to you or “talking” to you. It’s pretty cool that we have each other.

Until next time,

Captain Ben

Harper wasn’t sure where to start with this letter. Ben had so much going on. The dad stuff and the band and now wanting to ask a girl to the homecoming dance. What did she know about asking someone to a dance? She was going to homecoming as part of a big group instead of with dates. That was easier. Maybe she should suggest that to Ben; he should just go as part of a group. Less pressure and all.

Something about this whole homecoming question didn’t sit well with Harper. Was she jealous? She didn’t even know this Jenny girl but Harper didn’t like her. Harper had never had this sort of reaction to another girl before. She needed to talk to the one person who would know about these things...Flannery.

She called her sister’s dorm and of course, Flannery was out. Harper left a message with the roommate whose name she could never remember and hoped her sister would call her back. She decided it would be better to write the letter after she made the mixtape. The process of making the tape would calm her down and get her in the right place to respond to Ben’s letter. And maybe Flannery would call her back and help her figure this out.

Harper grabbed her notebook and started plotting her newest mix. She wanted it to be epic and amazing but not seem like she was trying too hard. That was the thing about making someone a mix; it had to be perfect but not seem like you agonized over it for hours. The mix had to be organic. It had to infect the listener’s brain and heart and soul all at the same time. Making mixtapes appealed to Harper’s love of lists and music as a way to understand someone. She made excellent mixes. At least that’s what she thought.

She worked on her mix late into the night. Her sister never called her back and eventually Harper gave up waiting for her call. She knew she’d have to write her letter and she’d have to figure out what to say to Ben about this girl. Maybe she’d dream of some kind of response.