The STUFF Sisters

The Face of HIV/AIDS

Last night she said to me, “I spend time speaking to people my age about being HIV positive.” Not for the full 10 hours a week that she volunteers, but it is part of what she does for Good Samaritan Project in my town. It has been part of what she’s done nationwide for over well over a decade.

Jane Fowler is the face of HIV/AIDS for me as I recognize World AIDS Day today. At an age “well over 50,” she contracted HIV from a partner. She knew the man, but clearly not everything about him.

She changed my life last night, and I told her so. She said, “sometimes I don’t know if I’m making a difference, but I speak up anyway.” I told her, fully choked up and with tears in my eyes, that she made a difference in me and I will never be the same. I barely got the words out.

We spoke about why I was involved with the AIDS fight in Kansas City. We spoke of my son and my wish for his children to live in an AIDS-free generation. We spoke of the holidays with her children. We spoke of mutual friends. We spoke of caring and of love.

Then I checked her out and wrapped her presents. All of this took place where I work. At the counter and in front of the Christmas tree. With people in clear hearing range.

When you hide from AIDS – when you whisper and turn your head – you give it power to make stigma and hate. But if you are like Jane, you speak up and you tell your story over and over until you fear you aren’t making a difference.

And that’s exactly when grace steps in and you change another life. Like mine was changed last night.

Thankful

With all our love, Happy Thanksgiving.

Every time a stranger applauds us for bringing them a smile during the public radio fund drive, we are thankful.

Every time our Dad reaches another lymphoma milestone, we are thankful.

Every time a customer thanks us for donating to their school auction, we are thankful.

Every time an employee verbally appreciates payday, we are thankful.

Every time our Mom says another year of being cancer-free is behind her, we are thankful.

Top-02 — Sloane calling home from The Big Apple.

Every time a new artist joins the mix in the store, we are thankful.

Every time you say our name lovingly in a group of friends, we are thankful.

Every time our children remind us what unconditional love is, we are thankful.

Every time the store fills with customers, we are thankful.

And every year we thank our lucky stars for getting the chance to try and make a difference for local artists, for American hand craft, for community charities, and for small business.

With all our love, Happy Thanksgiving.

Wide-01 — Kicking off the AIDS Bicycle Challenge.

Tall-01 — Our children asleep on a road trip.

Wide-02 — A bit of fun at inventory time with Ryoko.

Tall-02 — Pretending to be Vanna White with Women’s Employment Network.

Wide-03 — Ladies & Gentlemen: The Red Ribbon Regatta

Tall-03 — Casey giving it her all at KCUR’s fund drive

Wide-04 — With our parents at the Rising Stars of Philanthropy Luncheon

SuperWide-Cropped — The Family Load Out from the Smoky Hill River Festival.

Top-03 — Casey and her daughter having a good hair day.

Heaping Pile of Generosity

In the noisy jumble of a handcraft market stands a man we can count on to take our order, make us smile, and send us on our way. One day a few weeks ago, that same man made me cry.

In the noisy jumble of a handcraft market stands a man we can count on to take our order, make us smile, and send us on our way. One day a few weeks ago, that same man made me cry. His name is Mathias.

2005 Wings of Hope — Casey, Sloane & Susan, Wings of Hope 2005

A larger-than-usual pile of boxes was delivered that day, and that alone could have made me weep. In the pile was a smaller box. Smaller than the others. It was the second box I ripped into so that I could feel a sense of completion by getting it dealt with. However, it was the magic in the box that brought productivity to a standstill. It held a pile of lovely hand crafted pewter art pieces, a note in an envelope, and an invoice outlining that the art was a gift. Many gifts to be shared with our customers. The note was opened first, and the waterworks began.

Casey, Susan & Sloane, Wings of Hope 2006

One year – not so far back – we got to talking to Mathias about our Wings of Hope event when we saw him in New York. He is a great listener, and, when we were done telling him about the change we make with our holiday open house, he told us he wanted to give us special pocket tokens to give to our customers during the event. Mathias doesn’t talk much; hearing what people say is his strength.

2008 Wings of Hope — Casey & Sloane, Wings of Hope 2008

Mathias wrote the note that made me cry. He had a hand in the invoice adjustment, and he probably packed the box himself. But what blew me away – what has never happened before in the 16 years of our business – is the $100 check he included from his company. No company we represent has ever sent a donation to our yearly fundraiser. Ever. When I got Casey on the phone to tell her about the heaping pile of generosity we had received, she had to pull her car over because driving and crying is bad.

Together – here at STUFF, in a studio in Rhode Island, and in a research lab at the KU Cancer Center – change is in our hands. That goodness is what made me cry.

2010 Wings of Hope — Sloane with Einstein & Casey with Emma, Wings of Hope 2010

Join us on November 10th and 11th when our holiday open house, Wings of Hope, will magically fly again.

2011 Wings of Hope — Sloane & Casey, Wings of Hope 2011

Power of Transference

I have never been one for morbid sensibilities. I don’t dwell in sadness, nor do I dabble in unwholesome thoughts. I am not gloomy.

Early this morning, before the sun was up, cancer consumed the life of a friend’s father. I had time last night to hold her and sway a bit in a hug that didn’t want to end. She was moving quickly towards the silences that would come with her father’s death, but we were taking a few more minutes to talk about things that had nothing to do with the tasks at hand. Several good laughs, a few inappropriate comments, a touch of bad behavior and moments of quiet in an overly-bright waiting room.

I have small town ways about me. They have to have come from the branches above me in my family tree, as I was not raised in a small town. One of those “ways” is that I stop for funeral processions. I pull over. No matter what. When they are coming toward me and when they are on my tail. I take these moments for contemplation about the people I have lost in my life. I remember myself in dark and quiet limos. I remember deep sadness and overwhelming relief. I give these moments time, because it’s what I have to give. Time. What can my hurry possibly be that I can’t stop to honor a family in pain? It’s minutes, really. Blinks of an eye.

So, this morning, I took a moment and spent time looking for pictures of my father. He is living with cancer and doing a bang-up job at it. It’s hard, and it will be his forever. My friend’s father has just ended a very short dance with a wicked disease.

I ache for my friend. I can never feel her pain, but, through the power of transference, I can weep for her loss and be there when the smiles return.

“Hold ’em tight,” I said to myself and others this morning. “Time is fleeting.”

p.s. Here are photos of my Dad and members of my family over the past year. Some of these I have used in previous blogs, and some I have not.

family portrait 2011 — Thanksgiving 2011

Leavings

In the deeply gathering dusk a few nights ago, I stood in a small group of women and discussed the concepts of leaving. Of children leaving home for college. Of friends and their families leaving for different cities.

Three years ago I began publicly letting slip that I do not use the word goodbye. Remarkably, a woman in this little group admitted that she greatly disliked the word goodbye. We ran around and around the ways she doesn’t use it and in the end we were all laughing quite brightly.

I still don’t use the word. I wrote about this deeply held issue in a blog in July of 2009. It still stands today. Click here to read more.

Heart of a Champion

Today we learned that one of our amazing artists – Lori Hale – passed.

Today we learned that one of our amazing artists – Lori Hale – passed. She battled cancer with the heart of a champion. She was inspiring to us all. We were so deeply blessed to be chosen to share her creative spirit, ideas, joy and work with the world. We will miss Lori. We will miss her little company Blue Raven. We will miss her art.

Art is life.

Life is art.

In Passing

Years ago I went to a funeral. The gentleman we were celebrating that day was someone I didn’t really know very well, and not too personally.

Years ago I went to a funeral. The gentleman we were celebrating that day was someone I didn’t really know very well, and not too personally. He was the assistant to a charitable organization I was just becoming involved with. His passing took few by surprise, but it was tragic, as most deaths are.

What happened the day of the funeral that I will always remember was that I made a new friend. I knew few people in attendance but decided to sit next to a man who was as new to the same organization as I was. He was – and still is – a very polite, well dressed, caring man. He is able to stand quietly and think about the answer to a question that is posed in a hurried frenzy.

I sat down next to him. We exchanged brief hellos and polite niceties. Within a few minutes, my stomach began to growl. Not the quiet kind that you hear inside your own ear. Nope. The kind that has a crescendo that ends in a little “ping”. I was mortified. Here I was sitting next to a guy I barely knew, and I was making strange noises. I murmured an excuse, and he demurely smiled.

Then the most incredible thing happened. His stomach answered. It was like a mating call of the hungry. We smiled at each other with a bit more vigor, and then we let the funeral take hold of us.

There were tears. Many. I hadn’t thought I would cry quite so much for a person I barely knew, and I hadn’t packed tissues. My empty and tear-soaked hands soon held the pressed cotton handkerchief that he had gently put in my view for use. Our friendship has grown in the days that have passed since then.

This all took place almost 13 years ago. My friend and I have gone on to serve on two charitable boards together. We have had experiences inside those organizations that have left us laughing hilariously. Those same places have found us up against challenges that have changed us. In all the right ways.

Today he called to tell me a close friend had passed. A friend that had suffered long enough. He couldn’t get the words out. Tears and words were catching in my throat, and all I could ask him was if he was driving, because I wanted him to pull over. We were both a little bit over the moon in sadness. He was closer to our friend on a personal level. We had made a promise to each other to keep each other posted on any and all news about our friend.

This day found him making the rounds of the most difficult calls on the planet. He was telling the world that it was going to be a little bit darker for a while. That sadness and grief was going to consume us all, and then we would be better.

I know that, when I attend the remembrance for our mutual friend this week, we will find each other. Should he need it, I’ll have an extra cotton hanky in my handbag. I just hope we both remember to eat.

A Pot of Gold

On March 10th we had the time of our lives. Again. For the 10th year in a row.

On March 10th we had the time of our lives.

Again.

For the 10th year in a row.

The Brookside St. Patrick’s Warm-Up Parade is a Kansas City tradition that is equal in its grandness to the main parade held downtown every March 17th. Over 125 entries were in this year’s parade, and the crowds on every block were huge. The weather was amazing, and small business was shining throughout the parade. Another example of the small businesses in and around Brookside giving it their all…strutting their stuff and making magic for children and families.

One of our greatest fears as a small business in a global economy is that events like this parade will cease to exist if small business falters. Who will walk in parades showing off a 1964 Ford F100 pickup? Who will hand out over 100 pounds of candy? Who will hoot and holler and respond to every “shout out” from the crowd?

We saw the most amazing floats this year – dogs in wagons, rainbows over pots of gold, giant lawnmowers and shopping carts. A motorized potato. People on stilts. The list is endless and wonderful. Target didn’t have a float, Walmart didn’t have a float. PetSmart didn’t have a float. But Noah’s Ark did. And The Roasterie, and Cosentino’s.

The St. Pat’s Parade in Brookside was another reminder for us of why we work so hard to keep the neighborhood cultures alive. Because we love what we do, and we don’t want small parades in great neighborhoods to go away.

Please continue to shop with small businesses. You make pots of gold appear in all the right places and for all the right reasons.

Casey & Sloane

Goodbye Sweet Emma

Last night we said goodbye to sweet Emma. She passed peacefully surrounded by family with her head on my lap and my daughter’s arms wrapped around her. The room was full of our loving family. I am heartbroken today. So is my daughter.