When It Rains

Artist was Sally Bogardus

A big part of being self-employed is having constant faith in yourself, and that is maybe the hardest part. In it's simplest form, what keeps you going is the income coming in, which to a craftsperson, means sales. People liking the products, complimenting them (and you), and being drawn to them is great, and you're thankful, but if they don't buy one, all that praise isn't enough. And sales seem like the part that is the farthest out of your control, as well. While people do respond to a sales pitch, lots of us in search of an honest life can't really bear the spiel and the repetition of it and the feeling of manipulating someone into opening their wallet. I personally take such a lowkey approach it is sometimes painful when I don't "close" the sale. I do believe it is more about showing an interest in the person more than the sale, though...the most successful people I observe genuinely like the visitors and don't see them all as customers or not customers. They engage with people, are curious about them, and are honestly friendly. Many sales are made just because the potential customer decides they like you and want to support you by buying your product. It's a dance you do that is sometimes graceful and to my mind the trick is to find a groove there that you do genuinely enjoy.

I have a bit of a persona when I am on the blocks. I'm myself, but I am "on" as a person who will promote my product as well as assist the visitor in having a good day at Market. If they are having fun, they might not buy my things, but they will surely buy someone's, and if the Market has a good day that is good for me. After depending on Saturday Market for a good portion of my survival for 41 years, I can't separate my welfare from that of the Market community. I want us all to do well.

So last week was hard, about as hard as it gets. Showers turned to a downpour that wouldn't quit, and there were zero people walking the flooded aisles. Going out for coffee meant coming back wet. The camraderie was high but that doesn't pay the fees. My sales ended up being only about a fifth of those of the previous Saturdays, which were all great for me as summer appeared to have set in and the aisles were full of happy people. The biggest heartbreak was watching the hopeful new members who generally have inadequate tents and don't know all the tricks to keeping your products from getting ruined and your hopes from getting completely drowned. One young woman near me left after about 20 minutes it seemed. She was in what I consider one of the best spaces in the Market but something drastic must have convinced her to bail. I didn't even get a chance to look at her wares, and since my habit is to buy something if I can to support these people starting out, I felt bad for her. Let's hope she tries again. It looked like she had screenprinted work that was highly detailed and I wanted to talk shop and welcome her to the community.

A different rainy day. I won the haiku contest.

There are certainly tricks to rainy Markets and they are often essential. Raven and I put up a little gutter between our popups to channel the water that leaks through between them, (thanks for it, Teresa!) and we bungie our booths together for a tight fit. I put up two sides arranged to shelter my trailer and tubs out back and keep my bike somewhat dry, and I open and close the one on the south side to display my product when the drops do stop. I bring a lot less and pull it all in away from the sides so the inside of the booth is more crowded but most things stay dry. I still have to open all my tubs when I get home and spread out the damp cotton bags and hats, which just absorb from the air. I bring an empty tub for all of the stuff that really does get wet so it doesn't mix in with the merely damp. The booth and sides and most everything else have to be dried out in the next few days so they won't mildew, and my weight bags are still wet almost a week later. That was a lot of rain.

It won't be that bad this week, but I'll still have to go through all the extra steps for the one or two showers we will probably get. I have my racks on wheels and I can move them in and out as the weather changes, and there are a few other things we do to keep selling no matter what. I always go. I have a rule about it, and am convinced that a constant presence promotes sales. People think about purchases during the week and sometimes months later, so perhaps almost all the lookers really are customers and many consider themselves friends. I am grateful to all of them for giving me the information I need to keep going, to keep changing, and to keep trying to make something someone wants so that I can pay my bills. The forty-one years seem like the blink of an eye sometimes but I still remember things people said in the beginning.

Things like "who would buy these?" That was my own mom who asked. If I see it as an encouragement to assess my customer base and its needs, the question is helpful instead of critical. (Of course in the beginning it was sad.) There is no shortage of friendly advice about what I should make and what would sell like hotcakes, but I really trust my sense of it now and know my choices are based on solid experience and an intuitive understanding of my town and my craft. Not all of my choices are good. I invested in many, many things that never sold as planned, mostly in the clothing arena. I finally gave up on fashion and am selling off all of the clothing to stick with bags and hats. I still quail everytime I see those digitally printed multicolor polyester hats with the flat brims that people are wearing now. Lots of people still wear ballcaps, but that could stop at any point, leaving me with a fully-stocked room of devalued products that I would have to sell off below cost in some cases. I've given boxes and boxes of stuff away.

When my sales start to fall off, I always question my choices and my products, but one appreciative person can buoy me. One amused guy who reads all the hats gets my approval even if he doesn't buy one. A person who buys two is my buddy (except of course I rarely remember them a few months down the road.) I like to give away at least one tote bag a week to someone who needs a bag or buys something in a delighted way, and boy howdy do people like to get something for free. They want to feel special. Every person wants to feel special, I think.

So if you are new or doubting your path or tired of your work (I came in to do this instead of printing a couple piles of hats and bags, though I am going right back out there to do it) just give yourself a bit of a pep talk and put off quitting to see if your faith can be restored. I still love working for myself after all these years and even the boring printing is better than the thought of driving off to work inside some building for the benefit of someone else. I feel more secure doing this than depending on someone to take care of me as I age. I will continue to modify and someday probably have to quit printing but I hope I will never have to quit the Market.

I get tired of it. I have to convince myself to go sometimes, and sometimes I really don't enjoy every minute. I have so many emotions down there that are tough to process, even with my protective persona who lets me hide a little. I'm happier with silence at home, gardening and reading, thinking, doing the work of keeping a life running. I'm incredibly lucky, though, to have these two days a week to stand next to what I make and trade it to people for dollars and smiles. I owe my life to my community and to Saturday Market (and Tuesday Market) and OCF.

I made it work, but without the support of my fellow craftspeople and all of the people who collect and use our art, it wouldn't. That is why I go to meetings, pitch in to solve problems, deal with difficult people and tough questions, and try to guard and nurture my organizations for their longterm thriving. It's way bigger than me filling my needs. It's quite profoundly satisfying to see all of these quirky and self-centered people coming together in fruitful and progressive ways to set the downtown stage every weekend and to create, out of nothing, this event of such incredible value to so many. None of the little problems are big enough to derail it, and so far, in all these years, none of my huge fears have really gotten much traction when these people applied themselves to working through them.

Morning rituals

It can be hard, it can be discouragingly wet, and windy, and not profitable, and painful, and scary. Facebook reminded me today that four years ago I was down to one crutch and paying a young guy to bike my trailer to and from the Market, plus depending heavily on a very few people to haul me around until I could walk again. I was not an easy person to help, and I am still amazed how much a few people were willing to take care of me (Deb Schussler stands out, and there were others who helped me despite the hardship it created for them.) When it comes to caring that way for other people I fail miserably (working on that though.) People are kind and they usually err on the side of caring too much rather than not enough. Witness the political situation now, bare evidence that people want things to be better for each other.

This was a joke, but this is how I am. Some of my friends were very alarmed.

The connecting is worth doing. I will definitely watch for that young person who left last week and give the belated encouragement she needed. The sun will come back out! The tourists haven't even really gotten here yet, and the fruit season is just beginning. It's going to be summer! We will all get rich! Or anyway we will all feel rich, as we luxuriate in the sun and feel the breezes and enjoy the waters of the wonderful place we live. I hope that is true for you, even if it represents just a moment of satisfaction in an otherwise rough week. I hope you have your ways of renewing your faith and making your meaningful contribution.

I'll go do that printing now. The sooner I get it done the sooner I can get back to the new Louise Erdrich book I am reading, LaRose. So good. So worth waiting for. Lots of things are like that, so keep the faith.

Mother's Day Weekend

Tough day yesterday. Sales were great, and even though the day is long, from getting up at 5:00 am to usually getting home and unloaded at about 7:30 pm, it's usually manageable and I'm used to it and happy to be that strong. Standing on concrete, even on my little rug, is really hard on my right foot, the one I broke. I have a lot more sympathy for people in pain now and when I see someone limping with obviously sore feet, I can relate to how that forms the expression on your face and the resilience for all other things. I need to be more diligent about taking my vitamins and anti-inflammatories and figure out some better strategies. My friend tells me that walking in place would be better than just standing, and I am aware that I often put my weight on my right side instead of standing on both feet...just a bad 66-year-old habit.

About ten blocks from home the trailer began to get very heavy...unbelievably so, and sure enough, I had a flat tire. This was well after 6:30 and on a quiet stretch of 12th St., but I still got a little adrenal. What do you do when your entire Saturday Market set-up is sitting by the curb, impossible to secure, and you need to make a new plan? I could have done better, but it worked out. Two young guys were skateboarding in a driveway, so I asked them if they would watch it for me, and hobbled home to get my car.

As I ran/walked down the street, I almost went back, because in my haste I had not bothered to lock my bike or trailer...first clue that I was not thinking well. I had quickly evaluated that I could only lock one of them anyway, and the load with the sticks on top and tomato plants and really super flat tire was barely moveable and would hardly look worth unloading, even for the valuable trailer. Yet I put all my trust in these two young strangers and for the ten or fifteen minutes it took me, they had a lot of responsibility. If I had come back to a pile of nothing or tubs or a trailer without a bike, I would have had no one to blame but myself. It was a little shocking in a way. If I had been thinking clearly I would have ridden the bike home and just left the trailer, locked. Guess I was a bit in panic mode, good to observe for the future. Next time I should stop, sit for a minute, and think it through to minimize risk.

But I had spent the previous evening out on the corner of my street watching the protest and scene at the Trump speech at the Fairgrounds, and I felt like I knew my town and my neighborhood well. These young men were just enjoying the summerlike evening out in front of a group house that I had passed a zillion times and I knew many people on the block and all along 12th had seen me go by. Maybe not these two, but some of their housemates, the woman across the street with all the cats, and that guy down the block who seems to do the maintenance and security for the whole block, had noticed me. I see him out all the time surveying his domain, picking up litter or cutting grass or just assessing. He was most likely aware. He had told me once that my tires were low, and although he used to mutter things I thought were complaints about me, these days he usually said a cheerful good morning when he saw me go by. I trundle down that street twice a day, twice a week. If it's anything like my block, everyone knows far more about me and my life than I think.

Needless to say, when I got back all was intact and I gave them some of my riches to buy some pizza or something and refused their offers of help. The load doesn't even really fit in my car, which is an amazing thing, and I ended up leaving the car there while I rode the empty trailer home on the flat rather than try to pile it on top of the Toyota. I will need to get it fixed tomorrow to get back on the road Tuesday, though I suppose I could use my car...just really don't want to. I;m glad I had the car as a fallback, since I really didn't want to call anyone for a rescue, but unloading and loading a few more times was way over the top for a day's workload. I finished at 8:30 pm and still had to eat and treat my foot pain (I slather it with pain cream and green salve and it's generally fine the next day.)

Thus I fell asleep in my chair, missing SNL, and slept until almost ten this morning, dreaming about a baby I accidentally killed and lost (it was made out of some green clay and it wasn't my fault, I swear.) Mother's Day usually makes me go over my best and worst parenting moments and my assessment is pretty harsh overall. Part of the reason we have the Hallmark holiday is, to my mind, to say all is forgiven. No mother does it all right, especially in her secret thoughts where there has to be at least a smidgen of resentment or selfish wishes to be free of responsibility. Mothering is a long day every day for a couple of decades, and sometimes more. I feel successful in that I don't really have to worry about my precious and wonderful child (who has no equal to my mind, as per the mothering code.) I turned 66 this week. It is unlikely that I will see his end (god I hope I don't) and he is married and launched and mostly I get to just celebrate his successes and give him help with what he needs if he asks. I've had a long and quiet separation period and I'm fortunate in that I like being and living alone so I miss him but don't long for his return to my home so much. I'd love to share more time, of course, but I think I've adjusted fairly well.

The downside of these Hallmark holidays is all the comparing we do, thanks to advertising. My ideal relationship with him would be more like those commercials...I'd have more kids, too, which in reality would likely have not worked out as well as the TV version does. I didn't have any abortions, thanks be, but if I had been less lucky and started out earlier to be a Mom, things would have been way different. By 39 when I did get pregnant (on purpose) I had had some time to work on some of my psychological challenges, and was ready to focus on a child. I got to be more devoted than I would have at a younger age. I didn't pass on much trauma or drama, though of course there was some, and his perspective is different from mine for sure.

Having my birthday so close to Mother's Day always brings up a lot for me, self-assessment, thinking about the short balance of my years, my work and health challenges, my plan (more like a lack of one) for a realistic transition to the end. It won't be nearly as graceful as my 90-year-old Mom's plan, but you never know. I've learned so amazingly much from her, and continue to. I've depended on her as my rock of security for all of this time. Things have definitely shifted and now I'm more depended upon in some ways, but Mom has always given me what I needed even when I didn't ask. Love doesn't describe the gifts: my ability to trust that people are good and worthy of trust, my willingness to work hard and keep working, my great love for the natural world and all that is in it, my intelligence and compassion. She gave me the gift of siblings and the large family that we enjoy. She told me that I could have a child, and that if anything happened she would be my back-up. She always has a supportive thing to say whenever I am worried or anxious, pointing out that I have always managed so far, and have what it takes.

Mothers are so essential to us it is easy to take them for granted. It's almost a compliment to be trusted to be okay with whatever we get in return, and keep giving the love. It's not love that depends on proof or is conditional to what we get. That kid was a part of my body for a long time, and not very far from it for a longer one. He's a miracle I got to participate in. That's so much more profound and larger than love. I'm just filled with gratitude that I got to be there for that, and without my own Mom, I would probably have been too scared to try it. I'm glad I sent her a card and we're about to have our weekly phone chat. I'm glad I got tickets for us all to be together in July. Moms are it. We are special. I feel lucky to be in the club.