COMMENTARY: The secret to success as a seamstress: knowing when to abstain

One of the nice things about the holiday season are all the craft fairs around the area where one can browse local artists’ creations.

I am a big admirer of crafty people. Mainly because I don’t have a lick of talent in that department. I always say that’s why I got a job — so I could buy crafts.

This is a pretty pathetic admission from a woman who was raised in a family of immensely gifted seamstresses, knitters, painters and woodworkers. Everyone in my family shone in their respective talents while I was outside riding my bike or feeding the chickens.

Not that I didn’t try. Learning to sew, embroider, knit and crochet was almost mandatory among my mother, grandmothers and aunts. I toiled over projects for weeks but I spent most of the time undoing what I had done before. When I was about 10 years old I toiled over a cross-stitch apron for my mother, sewing wobbly and uneven stitches onto a red-and-white gingham fabric. When I finally called it quits and showed the grimy result to my great-aunt (a masterly seamstress) she kind of grimaced and told me to go watch “Batman.”

I was happy to be rid of the darned thing. But when I presented the apron to my mother I noticed that the stitches had somehow magically straightened out into a nice, even pattern.

“Wow,” I said to myself, “I’m better than I thought.” Later I found out that my aunt had taken out all the messy work I’d done and re-did the whole thing herself. Just confirmed to me that sewing was not my thing.

Fortunately, that is not a problem since you can buy clothes these days for sometimes much less money than it takes to make them. Needlecrafts, however, are usually more expensive than the factory-made objects available in department stores. And probably worth it.

I was in a local quilt shop recently when I noticed a darling hand-quilted backpack that I thought would make a great gift for my granddaughter.

“Is this for sale?” I asked the clerk.

It was not, she explained. The backpack was a display for a pattern that people who had the talent could make on their own.

“Would you like to try it?” the clerk asked.

I chuckled. I explained that of all the gifts God gave me, sewing was not one of them.

“We could teach you,” the clerk insisted. “It’s really pretty easy.”

“Sweetie,” I said, “I’m sure you’re a great teacher. But if God and all my relatives could not make a seamstress out of me, it’s just not meant to be.”

Sometimes the secret to success in life is knowing what you can do and — more important — what you can’t.

Hedberg may be contacted at khedberg@lmtribune.com.