The Friendship Chain

It’s funny how an assortment of random occurrences will weave themselves together to become something meaningful in my life. Let me share this with you.

Recently, while looking for a new knitting pattern for a wash cloth to take with me to my Tuesday night knitting group, I found a pattern for a “Friendship Chain” pattern online. I saved it on my Favorites list, made a couple of copies, and began knitting a new wash cloth. It was an easy pattern, one that flowed smoothly as my knitting needles clicked against each other, and within two hours, I had a completed project that I was casting off from my knitting needles. Then I made another one, and another one. There was something about the pattern that I loved – it was symmetrical in its design, and the stitch count was easy to remember, making knitting rhythmic and musical. It reminded me of singing a familiar song, one in which I knew all the words. I was pleased with the end results, and added my Friendship Chain wash cloths to my growing bundle that I hope to sell and give away.

While knitting this interesting pattern, my mind wandered as the words “friendship chain” tumbled around in my mind like a song that hangs on repeating itself over and over as a type of mantra in my brain. Memories began to emerge.

I pictured summer camp at Camp Fire Girls’ Camp Toccoa, where I spent several weeks each summer as a child and teen-ager. In my mind I saw us girls standing in a friendship circle around the evening camp fire, our arms crossed, always right over left, holding hands in a circle, singing the camp’s signature song, “Beneath the Pine Trees,” and then “Taps”, before squeezing hands in release and heading to our cabins for the night. As a Camp Fire Girl, this was a familiar ritual. After each weekly meeting our small group would form a friendship circle with our arms crossed, singing “Make new friends, but keep the old – One is silver and the other gold” followed by “Sing your way home at the end of the day.” This was our friendship chain, and the pattern I was knitting strangely reminded me of our crossed arms, standing in our friendship circle. Singing, always singing.

Yesterday, Phil and I met our childhood friend, Luci, for lunch in Decatur. Luci’s mother has recently died, and we invited Luci to meet us to express our support and friendship. Our invisible friendship chain materialized as we talked, shared common experiences, and enjoyed being back in our childhood hometown for a few hours. The links of our friendship chain were strong as we relived childhood memories, walked down familiar streets, and laughed and cried together. As Phil and I drove home, I thought about Luci and the history of our friendship, remembering our MYF group at the Decatur Methodist Church, remembering similar friendship circles with arms crossed, as we helped each other through adolescence and along our individual faith journeys.

Last night, the final thread in this emerging tapestry completed the picture as I happened upon a PBS program on television on the folk singing group, Peter, Paul, and Mary. As I listened to their songs, I was a teen-ager,back at Camp Toccoa with my baritone ukulele, sitting on a top bunk with my cabin-mates strumming and singing folk songs, including “If I had a Hammer”, “Blowing in the Wind,” “Where Have All the Flowers Gone”, and others that this group and other folk singers had brought into our lives through the magic of radio and long-play record albums. I also listened to these artists as they shared their experiences of singing during our turbulent teen-age years when Martin Luther King was teaching us about peaceful resistance, equal rights, and dreams of a racially unified America. In one of the video clips from a performance in the ‘60s, I saw Peter, Paul, and Mary standing shoulder –to-shoulder on stage with a group of singers and equal rights leaders, their arms crossed, holding hands in a friendship chain. I began to cry as I listened to their song and realized how folk music has been a vital link in my personal friendship chain throughout my life. I also heard an old, old message that had begun with the Camp Fire Girls’ friendship circles, and hadn’t left me, even though it had been buried until the day I found the knitting pattern for the Friendship Chain.

I plan to knit many Friendship Chain wash cloths. They remind me of the importance of my friends, the bonds that the friendship chain symbolizes, the strength of holding hands with friends in an eternal circle of love, and the importance of keeping a song in my heart.

My Cottage Industry

Yesterday was my first day to set up my booth at the Monroe Outdoor Market. Phil built a wonderful display “kiosk” for me last week, and I was eager to see how it would work. Made of left-over kitchen cabinet doors and an old market umbrella we had used on our deck years ago, it was an answer to the market requirement that all vendors must set up under some kind of canopy over our display tables. Compact and sturdy, Phil was sure that his creation would be perfect for me. I thought so, too, and looked forward to my first day at the market.

I woke up early in order to get ready, went outside to pick fresh lettuce and herbs, and by 8:00 am, we were on our way to Monroe. When we pulled up into the vacant lot that transforms into a market every Saturday during the growing season, I was warmly greeted by old friends from last year’s market, and met a couple of newcomer vendors. It didn’t take Phil more than a couple of minutes to unload my new display kiosk, and for me to raise the umbrella. I couldn’t have been more pleased, and within another few minutes I was ready for business. Phil stayed around for a little while, but then left me there alone while he ran some Saturday morning errands.

I set out my loaves of bread, arranged my jars of jelly, and put the lettuce and herbs in a place where they would be easily seen by browsing shoppers. I had decided at the last minute to take a box of my photo note cards and a basket of my knitted and crocheted cotton dish cloths to add a little color to my booth. I set up my canvas chair, got out my crochet hook and ball of yarn, and waited to see what would happen.

Being a holiday week-end, we weren’t sure how many people would visit the market. The other vendors commented on the small amount of traffic walking through the market, but I was delighted. Most of the early birds were merely looking and visiting, checking things out, looking for fresh vegetables, of which there were few. Soon all of the early squash, new potatoes and spring greens were gone. A few people stopped by my booth to see what I had, and bought a loaf of bread or jar of jelly. Several asked me if I was going to be a regular vendor at the market - they had already bought bread for the week, but were interested in what I’d have next week. I also had inquiries on what herbs I would have, and I promised that there would be some there next week. My one pack of cilantro sold within the first hour. One shopper zeroed in on my basket of dish cloths and selected two to purchase, not blinking twice at the price. I was thrilled!

By 11:00, I had sold all but three loaves of bread and things were slowing down. It was now time to barter. I visited one of my friends who was selling home-made English muffins. She wanted to try my cracked wheat bread, so we made a trade. I also got a dozen fresh eggs and a package of fresh roast coffee in exchange for either bread or jelly.

When Phil arrived at noon, I had already taken down the umbrella and put away my left-overs, of which there were few. He helped me load my table and umbrella into the truck, and we helped the other vendors fold up their canopies. As we pulled out of the lot, I began counting my money. I discovered that it had been a good morning for me. Even though it seemed that it was a quiet morning, I had surpassed my goal of how much I wanted to make.

So, now I need to think about making more jelly, deciding what kinds of bread to bake on Friday, and getting some more cotton yarn to make more dish cloths. I also need to come up with a better way to display my photo note cards – I think they’ll sell if they are more visible. Being a market vendor certainly won’t make me rich, but it’s a delightful cottage industry, and a wonderful way to spend a Saturday morning.

I’m already looking forward to next Saturday!