As you might have guessed, Mom and her sisters were poised like bobcats for the college to open. But not for reasons you might think.
They'd -- for some reason, probably a convulsion of opportunism -- attempted to weasel out of the mayor's office months in advance if any handicraft lessons were going to be on offer at the college. They reasoned that, just in case there were, then the instructor would certainly need a co-operative, trustworthy, friendly supplier of thread and patterns and hoops and notions and needles and so on and so on and so on. It wouldn't do any harm if A Stitch In Time were conveniently and practically the only place where whatever assistance was needed could easily be found.
But the snippy lady they initially spoke to and who probably came from some hoity-toity place on the East Coast had informed them that Silver Oak was not going to be known as a "cow college" and that "handicrafts" or any other "rural pastimes" were not being considered in the proposed course catalog.
Silver Oak Community College was to be a pinnacle of education, not an overalls parade.
Well, the sisters didn't take that lying down. They made appointments and attempted to smile and sweet-talk some of the art-tie yuppies into lobbying for them wherever lobbying was needed. They argued that A Stitch in Time was a valuable asset to the Silver Oak business community, being one of the original businesses and mainstays, and they simply wanted to be of service to the community and help it reach its potential.
The art-tie yuppies flirted, sweet-talking them back and making all sorts of promises that had Mom and my aunts drooling in their sleeves and mentally ear-marking thousands of dollars worth of merchandise for college use.
But a few weeks later the snippy lady was still singing the same tune and no, there had been no changes to the course offerings or proposed departments and she was sure she had no idea what they were talking about.
Not seeing any other option, they pushed the docket and turned up unannounced at the mayor's house right before he sat down to dinner one night.
They were a three-woman UN delegation, full of pride and pragmatism, ready to wheel-and-deal, as they presented him convincing evidence that handicrafts were one of the most important cultural traditions of the area. Traditions one simply couldn't overlook.
They gently reminded him that they (along with Joe's Art Corral) were now the longest renters in the village. It was only right that popular, long-running successful shops should be shown, how shall we say, special consideration , when new opportunities like this very exciting community college arose.
The mayor listened politely to all they had to say, nodding sympathetically and reassuringly all the while. But when they were finished, he shook his head and said, "Ladies, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that blood is thicker than water. But profit and prestige for the whole village is thicker than blood. Now, if you'll excuse me, my dinner's getting cold."
And that was the end of the audience.
Deja-vu.
Just like when their husbands had lost their jobs and permanently sat down, the three weird sisters narrowed their eyes to slits, hunched over the cauldron of our kitchen table and brewed up a plan.
They would show them "rural pastimes."
They would show them "prestige."
They would make their own "course offerings."
They would be the only place to offer a counter-balance to the egg-headed, snobbish, exclusionary ambitions of the mayor's office.
They were going to teach the world how to knit.
YOU ARE READING
Silver Oak Welcomes You!
Humor(incomplete novella) Welcome to Silver Oak: The Camelot of the Midwest! Meet Holly Anderson, the daughter of the three owners of "A Stitch in Time", a needlecraft shop in the shopping Mecca of Silver Oak. Everything is going swimmingly, until the ma...
