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These works by Alice Bass are displayed with permission from the author. |
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Alice Bass |
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Glad Bags I sat down to make a pair of earrings for a friend’s birthday present, identical to a pair I’d made for myself. But I couldn’t find my supplies. After two days of hunting I could only find four of the beads I wanted to use for my project.
The beads came from a bracelet my parents brought me from China. Jade beads on a red elastic string that came from near the jade market – “Not actually in the store, but quite near it.” I imagined a tiny, 300 year old Chinese woman who grabbed scraps of jade from the real market to make elastic bracelets to sell to tourists.
None of us were sure the elastic would last long, but it made it a year before an eight year old child, my child in fact, tantrumed it to pieces. Henry got mad at me (probably for a medium fries instead of a large) and when I reached into the backseat of our Olds Cutlass to pat his leg, he grabbed my hand and missed, taking hold of the jade bracelet instead. Circular beads, like flat little donuts, flew everywhere. I scooped up what I could and made myself a pair of earrings. When the car was totaled, I went through the seats and pulled out as many jade donuts as I could find, probably 20 or 30.
To make those original earrings I borrowed jewelry tools, went to Beall’s Outlet and bought broken necklaces on sale. Then I kept the leftover bits and bobs in a Ziploc bag. That baggie of potential jewelry traveled with me through the two confusing years of my relocation from Florida to Texas and back, eventually moving into my parents’ house with my son Henry. All along that journey the Ziploc bag was an icon of hope -- someday I’ll turn all this colorful mess into something lovely.
But today I can’t find the bag.
So, I’ll be late with my girlfriend’s birthday present, no surprise to anyone I’m sure, while I search my three rooms for my baggie of jewels. I can always buy more beads to go with the 4 jade donuts left over, but I won’t be able to overcome the reality of what I’ve done with my glad bag of hope.
Copyright © 2006 by Alice Bass |
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Ancestral Home
I want the smell of coffee the sizzle of sausages and late morning sleep.
I want the kiss of a lover the embrace of a friend and a knowing glance of the husband.
I want the laugh of my child a conversation with my son and the fishing boat at dawn with my father.
I want steam rising from cups in the morning a full bodied red in the evening all from the deck of my ancestral home.
Copyright © 2006 by Alice Bass |