Day Ninety Seven: The Land of My Youth

The map that inspired me.

I haven't encountered a map that I didn't want to own. The Rand McNally map of Brooklyn, a foldable and laminated map that I keep as a reminder of where I came from and want to eventually return to, is my prized possession. I heart this map.

Oh, Brooklyn. How I love you.


My cork map of Brooklyn, aka the Land of My Youth, is nearly complete, but I'm in need of a table saw. Can anyone help me out with a table saw? Anyone? Anyone?

It needs some color and I've made word stencils to paint over sections. What do you think: red, yellow? Maybe orange? Is gold too gaudy?

At least I'm done with the sewing bit. That was a pain in the posterior.

Here is my painting so far:

I re-used the stencils that I made for the cork map. Don't know where this one is going. But it should be interesting. I can't draw to save my life, but I can cut very intricate stencils with a craft knife. If anyone has a bright idea that uses my blade skills, I'd love to hear from you.

Many of you might be wondering how all of this map business relate to my Mom. It seems a little...odd? But consider this: the need to recapture the land of my youth is part of the whole grieving process and I don't think this particular cork map would exist otherwise. She suffuses every line, curved or straight. The idea of my Mom has become a map of memories that I'm still trying to render with my hands rather than words.

Over the past three months, very wise and experienced friends have suggested keeping a journal with all my memories of my Mom. I have three such journals sitting on my shelf, still blank and a little dusty.

I'm not there yet. I'm still making maps. Maybe when my 100 days are over, those journals will start filling up.