The STUFF Sisters

Black Lives Matter. Period.

Our mother never once waivered. She was never afraid of a fight. She never became silent in the face of injustice. She always said, “Change is a long, hard road, but that is not an excuse to give up.” She currently has cancer tumors on her brain that make it hard for her to speak, and yet…

Black Lives Matter. Period.

We – The STUFF Sisters – grew up with an Earth Mother. We began our lives on her hip and holding her hand as she marched and volunteered during the Civil Rights Movement. She went on to be a dedicated and celebrated leader in the Women’s Movement and the ongoing fight for the Equal Rights Amendment. We spent countless hours and days sitting at the Missouri state capitol in t-shirts boldly printed with messages of equality, while we helped stamp envelopes, fold flyers, and make yard-signs.

We were raised on a healthy dose of social justice. We were taught that human rights are NOT political. We were raised to have voices and to feel empowered to speak our minds. We attended public schools during desegregation and our names were offered to be part of the landmark case to integrate schools in Kansas City and Missouri.

We are proud, opinionated women that became active, participating members in the fight for social justice and equality for all people in our country. Our store has always been a safe space for all people. Our store’s doors are always open to anyone and everyone. We represent artists and creators as diverse and beautiful as the world in which we live. In addition, we curate works that hopefully reflect that same diversity.

Continue reading “Black Lives Matter. Period.”

Survival Mode

24 years. Countless challenges. Two sisters. One vision. It is with very heavy hearts that we have made the tough decision to transition into “survival mode.” We have braved every setback in the last 24 years without ever cutting our hours. However, extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures.

24 years. Countless challenges. Two sisters. One vision.

It is with very heavy hearts that we have made the tough decision to transition into “survival mode.” We have braved every setback in the last 24 years without ever cutting our hours. However, extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures.

Starting tomorrow, March 16, we will be closed three days a week. We will be OPEN four days a week. Closing for an unbroken 72 hours each week will help protect our customers by significantly reducing the risk of spreading viruses within our walls. We will, of course, continue to clean and disinfect every surface, and we will spray our store each night with disinfectant.

Our new hours will be:

Monday: Closed
Tuesday: Closed
Wednesday: Closed
Thursday: 11AM – 6PM
Friday: 11AM – 6PM
Saturday: 11AM – 6PM
Sunday: 12PM – 5PM

Continue reading “Survival Mode”

Classy

Several days ago, while walking through the living room on my way to my bedroom, something caught my eye. New art in the living room …

A well-appointed home makes room for painter’s tape and Scotch tape.

My husband and I have lived in our historic home for over twenty-five years. We have started and completed many projects, with and without help. Early in our time here, we did most of the work ourselves. Plaster repair, painting, wall-to-wall carpet removal, flooring repair. We have light skills in electrical and plumbing. Continue reading “Classy”

Our Thanksgiving Letter

“F**k, I glued my fingers together.”

“It will be okay. Don’t panic.”

“F**k, I glued my fingers together.”

“It will be okay. Don’t panic.”

Continue reading “Our Thanksgiving Letter”

The Weight of The World

My younger sister believed in angels. Since her death over 20 years ago I too like to think they exist and that she is now among them.

My younger sister believed in angels. Since her death over 20 years ago I too like to think they exist and that she is now among them. When I see a white feather on the ground or blowing by I like to believe it has fallen from an angel’s wings. That maybe my sister or her winged friends have passed my way.

My parents are both terminal cancer patients. Continue reading “The Weight of The World”

26 Hours

I am finding it harder to get through a day without finding the absolute magic that this amazing Earth puts in front of me.

“I’ll bet you took pictures of the plants and stuff. What about the art?”

Parents. They know too much.

Redbud pom-poms bursting from the trunks and branches.

Continue reading “26 Hours”

Having Been Here Before

As he told his new oncologist, who smiled, “I already have an incurable lymphoma, what’s one more?” Humor. It’s what Simmonses do. In times of happy and times of sad. We laugh.

I sat there idling in the fast food line, knowing I had felt this way before. I jetted over the guilt of ordering – and, in time, eating – this comfort food with my sister from the burger joint that has been here since our childhoods. Child’s play on the list of emotions I was trying to wrestle.

Strangely, I was feeling that things were settled for just a moment. I dug deeply, and, when I landed on where I had experienced this feeling before, I smiled. Continue reading “Having Been Here Before”

Sanctuary

I feel an overwhelming and powerful inner peace when I am where the ocean meets the land. It is my place of worship. It is my church. It is where Mother Nature is the most accessible to me.

Last week I found myself on a beach in February. A rare occasion for me in the dead of winter. I was there because my father has cancer and there is a new challenge to face. I traveled to be with him when he met with yet another cancer specialist. Something that we have done together as a family many, many times before and in many cities.

I didn’t bring a swimsuit or any of my beach gear. I didn’t plan to be on the beach more than a handful of minutes. I told myself that one long walk was all I needed.

When the time was right, I took my walk and headed “up island” (as it is called by the islanders). I kept my eyes on the water as I walked. I didn’t look around. I just listened and watched the waves. I wanted no distractions.

On my return “down island”, I again kept my head turned to the ocean. I found a spot at the water’s edge and kneeled down. I said what I needed to say. I did my best to lay down my fear, pain, and sadness. Mother Nature and the waves listened.

I continued my walk, slowing heading back to the house. Again, eyes on the water.

The tide came in stronger unexpectedly and I ran onto dry ground. As I did, I turned to look at the low slung dunes. The most beautiful sight was right before my eyes. A crude collection of broken shells hung from barren branches. I had walked past it on my journey North. I must not have been ready to feel it or see it when I began my walk. Only on my return did I discover this special spot.

I felt like I had entered a sanctuary. It was mystical and magical. Built by many, for anyone to share. I just explored it without touching anything. I looked into the branches from all angles. I listened to the sound of the waves and how the wind made some of the shells clatter. I sat down and looked up into the branches. I found a spot where I could see both the hanging shells and the water. I sat still and just took deep healing breaths. Before I stood, I thanked Mother Nature for answering my prayers so quickly.

I walked back to my family.

Casey

Note: Only as I started to see the path that leads off the beach did I remember I had my phone hidden with my shoes near the base of a tree. I grabbed it and ran back to take the photos you see in my post. I was thankful I didn’t have it when I came upon it the first time. I had picked up a few broken shells on my walk, I added them to the branches.

I did sneak back out for a sunset the next evening and one last visit to my special place.

Learned Behavior

They always made the day about loving everyone, not just your lover.

My parents taught us to love Valentine’s Day. And I do.

When my mom got flowers from Ed’s Dainty Corsages on 31st and Cherry from our dad, the three little tow-headed blondes who had climbed into the back seat for the adventure to midtown got single roses wrapped in waxy paper and tied with a curling ribbon bow.

Continue reading “Learned Behavior”

Polished

I visited museums. This is never a hardship for me. I delight in wandering through and wondering at what is placed in front of me.

Every winter, my hands suffer. My dear friend, Susan, always surprises me at some point in the chilly season with yet another balm that will make all the breakage end, the cuts heal, and the dryness disappear. I use it religiously, and still I cannot be mistaken for a hand model.

Continue reading “Polished”