An Altered Book :: The Gift
From my notebook. June 13, 2005
It’s mother’s day. We’re sittng on the porch outside my parents’ home. There’s six of us, sitting, talking– my mom and dad, by sister and her husband, and my husband.
A house sparrow has made a nest in the painted metal sailboats that hang on the wall. She’s tucked it beneath one of the brightly painted sails. There’s a little rust here and there where the paint has worn away. I can’t see the eggs, but I know they’re in there. Small, pale blue, lightly speckled.
We’ve scared the mother off, and she sits anxiously in a nearby shrub, waiting for an opportunity to return to her nest. Sometimes she tries to make it– bravely swooping in, but then quickly darting away when someone moves an arm or speaks too loudly.
I feel sorry for this bird for her and her anxiousness. I almost want to move everyone inside so she can get back to her nest.
She tries to approach again, resting on the top of the metal mast, watching warily, but then my dad waves his arm for emphasis and she flies off again. I’m agitated, like her. I can’t follow the conversaton. I watch her watch us, waiting.
She swoops again. This time she lingers on the edge of the boat and stays, gaining confidence. She slowly works her way behind that sail and settles down into the nest. She feels safe, hidden, protected. I see her small brown eye looking towards me. But I feel better now, knowing she’s back in her nest.
Two weeks later I’m back to help take care of Mom and to look after Dad. I walk onto the porch again to check on the birds. But when I look behind the boat for the nest, I find that it’s gone.
Inside the boats are seven delicate eggs. Remnants of the nest are strewn about here and there. I wonder if an animal got to it. But then, the eggs would probably be gone.
I ask my dad if he knows what happened to the nest.
“No. I didn’t even realize it was gone. Sandie,” he says to my mom, “do you know what happend to the nest that was in among the boats?”
“Oh those messy birds! I just can’t stand it. I had to clean up that mess.”
“But honey, that was a bird’s nest,” my father says gently.
“I just don’t care. They just can’t come around and leave a mess like that!”
“Okay, mom,” I say. “It’s okay.”
This is my new mom talking– the one who’s on the edge of being a stranger to me, and I to her. She’s the one I’m trying to get to know. Old mom cherished birds. Old mom took care of three or four bird feeders hanging full of seed near every window where she could watch them. Old mom could name every bird she saw. Old mom filled hummingbird feeders with sugar water, and called her daughters over every time a hummer came near.
My old mom was heartbroken by every bird who lost its life against an unseen window. She had bird guides and binoculars always at the ready. When two house sparrows built their house foolishily and precarioulsy in the narrow porch rafters two summers ago, she didn’t even want us going outside so as not to disturb them.
This new mother is a stranger to me. I want my old mother back, the one who would have done just about anything to protect the bird’s nest in the boat.
It’s five months since that I wrote that entry. I have created an altered book and written a poem about that moment. You can find it on my web site at Found Object Assemblages :: The Gift.
November 28th, 2005 at 1:39 am
karen this book is beautiful, so is the poem..it made me cry, and also gave me hope as to thinking..we always have our memories…keep all the good ones..your mom is obviously a good mother…thank you for sharing such a personal and special part of yourself and giving us a gift….you are a very special daughter…carol
November 28th, 2005 at 3:15 am
Thank you so much, Carol.
November 28th, 2005 at 8:43 am
Karen, this was so sad but such a lovely gift you have made of this event. This happening before our very eyes, is very reminiscent of our family event currently being played out. My 33 yr. old niece Tammy, has MLD (Meta-Chromatic Leukodistrophy) she is missing Chromosome #21. She is slowly going away also.We’ve been watching this happen at a faster rate over the last two years. She is now in a nursing home with a feeding tube. So sad, and hell for my sister, her mother. We empathize with you and your family for what you are going through. But this book is wonderful to remind you not to take Life for granted. We need to treasure every day while we have them with these precious loved ones. May God Bless.
Hugs,
Lolly
November 28th, 2005 at 1:03 pm
Karen,
Your blog entry is exquisite in it’s delicate handling of the altering the mind goes through with disease. The way you are able to tell the story, and the readers feel as if they are there with you, and somehow are able to insert the emotive elements as well. Well, it is just good as it gets!
What a joy to read! And the artwork and poem that mirror the essay are equally as stunning. Thank you so much.
Karen Shelnutt
November 28th, 2005 at 7:29 pm
Karen,
I loved this piece! The art, the poem and the blog touched me so much! I too miss our old mom who cherished everything about nature! You do amazing work and I am always in awe of it. Thank you for giving us something so special to treasure and cherish about Mom!
Love,
Kris
December 1st, 2005 at 12:53 pm
Karen,
Thank you for coming to my blog and leaving your sweet note - and for introducing me to your blog and beautiful altered books. I will spend a lot of time here, learning and enjoying.
Your story of your mother and the birds is heart breakingly poignant. What you must be going through - I cannot imagine. After reading, I called my own daughter just to say a special I Love You, even though I had just said it an hour ago. Time is precious and so fleeting for you. God bless you.
I’ll definitely be back!
December 1st, 2005 at 7:26 pm
Thank you for this, Karen! My friend, Karen Shelnutt recommended it to me. I am 67 and my mother died when I was 37, but I still miss her, particularly at this season. It must be so difficult for you to absorb the changes your mother is undergoing. Your words are poignant and loving.Your mother has a wonderful daughter! Isn’t it a miracle and a blessing we have our creativity to guide us through these valleys? Your mother, as you knew her, lives on in your beautiful altered book and your poem.
December 1st, 2005 at 10:29 pm
Your book is lovely.
December 3rd, 2005 at 12:17 am
The Gift is a gift for all who will consider it. Beautiful beautiful words, expressions, and the illustrations… I can almost feel the same things as my dad slips away to be replaced by a stranger, and leaves me wondering- is the real dad I knew still in there? Precious memories are treasures of the heart.
Thank you for sharing art from your heart with us.
December 16th, 2005 at 9:26 am
I started my first altered book last night. I was just surfing for inspiration but got more than I bargained for here. Your words touched me deeply and the book is beautiful. Thank you.
January 1st, 2006 at 1:08 pm
Thank you to everyone who responded to this book and took the time to comment. It means a lot to me!
January 3rd, 2006 at 6:48 pm
What a delightful way to record your special memories of the people dearest to you especially with your mum in mind. It conveys the some of the character that your mum was as a unique person in her own right… I lost my mum when I was 33yrs old quite suddenly and although that was some years ago… I am now 46yrs old my memories of her are fond and warming. I never knew my dad until my mum died as he was always in the background, quietly supporting us all but now I do and just thinking about him as I am writing this makes me smile. I would never have known him had my mum been still around as we all chattered to her and seemed to leave my poor dad out! Now I will have memories of them both and will make an effort to have a go at a book myself as you have truly inspired me. Thanks Val xx
January 4th, 2006 at 7:36 pm
I just wept. I was so touched by your story.
My mom has dementia and has had it for a long while. My brother tells me that she probably won’t know me when I come home again. I think the shock of her not ‘knowing me’ will likely just kill me………I dread it.
February 7th, 2006 at 8:56 am
Thank you!
I know what my next altered work will be about.
Reading your wonderful words took me back in time.
My mom loved and cared for all wildlife too.Especially watching the birds in her yard.
She is now is the final stages of Alzheimers.
I also want my mom back.I miss her so much.
Best of luck to you and God bless.
February 15th, 2006 at 11:23 am
I lost my Mom after a brief, but violent and rare form of dementia just over a year ago. Your story brings back such memories. What a wonderful tribute you’ve made already to your mother. I’m sure she would be honored and proud to know that you think of her the way you do. I pray you and your family can cope and stick together through all that is to come. My best friend is also at the beginning of this with her grandmother that raised her and I know it will be a long road. May God bless you all!
June 25th, 2006 at 12:28 am
karen
i read your beautiful poem and it makes me feel great that i have a wonderful aunt that can do theses amazing things i really am happy that you do these things and any time i see something new i would say i cant wait to see the next one. you really inspire me
love you
mandie
June 25th, 2006 at 10:23 pm
Mandie,
Thank you so much for taking the time to write in my blog. It makes me happy to know my art inspires you, because you inspire ME! Your sweetness, strength, perseverence, and positive attitude about life are qualities I very much admire. I’m happy that you are my niece and that we can have fun together.. Love you lots, your aunt Karen.
February 1st, 2007 at 3:24 am
[…] Like any artwork, altered books are created for many reasons. There are those altered books created with a clear mission from the start, and others which are like any other journal and mark or express a journey through personal issues. […]
March 9th, 2007 at 2:26 pm
Hi Karen,
Wow! “The Gift” touched my heart and brought tears to my eyes. My mama, too, became a “changeling” before her death four years ago yesterday. One of the last things she told me was that I looked a lot like her oldest daughter……which I am. Two months before my mother’s death, I lost my 13 year old grandson to an accidental death and desperately needed my mama’s touch. I remember laying my head on my mother’s breast, taking her hand and patting my face with it while I sobbed. I grew up on the bay in Sausalito and she, too, taught me to love and respect nature & all God’s creatures. I distinctly remember the wild birds pecking at her windows when she was late feeding them and every stray cat in town knew where she lived. I wore her cremation tag on my key chain for several years. I figured it was the last thing to touch her so I kept it near. She loved to beachcomb and collected buckets and buckets of sea glass and pottery shards over the years. I covered her metal ashes box with these shards and with symbolic ceramic tiles I made. Inside the box I’ve placed pictures of my mother and me and our “stories”. I plan to give the box to my only granddaughter when she’s older so she’ll know some of the history of the women in her family. I never had that luxury and have had to piece together my family history as best I could which I’m sure has involved a bit of confabulation, wishful thinking and gapping holes. To help deal with my grandson’s death I named a star for him in the constellation Orion the first Christmas he went missing. Then I mosaiced a memorial bench made with my handmade tiles that his classmates helped me install in front of the school library in Guerneville the day before their 8th grade graduation. These acts of creation helped me greatly in dealing with the loss of two of the people I loved most in this world. Thanks again for sharing your love and loss with us.
Katie “Princess Papoola”
February 10th, 2008 at 2:24 am
Karen,
I loved reading all of the lovely comments! I am deeply touched by your willingness to share your mom’s story and how your relationship changed and evolved through her disease.
You created a perfect tribute to her and to your LOVE FOR HER!
I know in my heart that, like my own father, she is now whole again both physically & mentally and cherishes this “gift” just as if you’d given it to her.
Your GORGEOUS book has inspired me to begin again. Two years ago, after my dad died (parkinson’s & dementia with leweybodies), I bought a vintage brass (cigarette case?) box and toyed with the idea of making an accordian book to fit inside. I needed a push from this “fresh approach” to finally honor my precious dad! Thank you! - vicki xo
February 13th, 2008 at 2:45 am
I agree with you, Vicki, the comments here are amazing. Isn’t it wonderful that we can share our experiences, sadnesses and joys with one another this way.