The Value in Doing Things by Hand

Summary

The author of the article reflects on the valuable life skills and the joy of creating things by hand, which were ingrained in them from childhood, emphasizing the importance of these skills in personal development and satisfaction.

Abstract

The article titled "The Value in Doing Things by Hand" emphasizes the enriching experience of engaging in manual tasks such as sewing, knitting, cooking, and car maintenance. The author, who played the role of Vera Walters in the play "Nana's Naughty Knickers," recounts how they effortlessly applied their sewing skills backstage and on stage. They reminisce about growing up in an era where such skills were a part of daily life, passed down through generations, and were essential for survival. The author nostalgically recalls making clothes, chopping wood, and gardening, attributing these experiences to their ability to problem-solve and appreciate the craftsmanship in creating something from scratch. They argue that these skills, though less necessary in modern life, are still valuable and provide a sense of accomplishment and self-reliance.

Opinions

The author values the hands-on skills learned in childhood, considering them a vital part of their personal development.
There is a sense of surprise and concern that basic skills like sewing are not universally known.
The author finds intrinsic satisfaction in creating things by hand, viewing it as an expression of divine intelligence.
The ability to sew, knit, and perform other manual tasks is seen not just as a skill but as a "skill stack" that contributes to one's overall capabilities.
The article suggests that engaging in manual tasks can lead to increased problem-solving abilities and resilience.
The author treasures the handmade items from their past, such as a pink dress made by their mother, highlighting the emotional value of handcrafted goods.
The author believes that the skills learned from doing things by hand have a lasting impact, influencing other areas of life, such as artistic composition.

Even better when learned in childhood

I had the great luck to be cast as Vera Walters in a play, Nana’s Naughty Knickers. Vera is the free-spirited side-kick to the main character, Nana.

Nana’s Naughty Knickers, is a fast-moving, fast-talking farcical comedy about two elderly long-time friends who are running a business from Nana’s New York apartment. The business is, you guessed it, making naughty knickers.

Hilarity ensues as the ladies try to keep the booming knicker sales a secret from Nana’s granddaughter and the landlord of the rent-controlled apartment.

In this theater, the actors did everything from, building and painting sets to making costumes and cleaning the bathrooms.

The talented costume chair didn’t know how to sew and I was called on to do alterations for the cast members. Sure, I said. Sewing was second nature to me. I was baffled that nobody else knew how to do it.

Nana’s Naughty Knickers, I’m ready for my close-up, Diane Overcash as Vera Walters, photographer Andy Rassler

In that same play, my character needed to be able to knit while rocking in a rocking chair. I didn’t have to fake it. I rocked and knitted as my character, Vera, yelled at the top of her lungs, I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL YOU’RE DOING.

I grew up in a time and place where we did things by hand. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, knitting, crocheting. I can do all these things because did them as I grew up. I can also operate a chain saw, chop wood with an ax, change the oil in my car and dig a round hole in the ground with a shovel. That’s one of my skill stacks.

We had a wood stove until after I left the house and moved out on my own. Everybody had to chop wood and operate a chain saw. There was a lot of cussing going on during these times. It was part of the background scenery.

The women in my family sewed our clothes and I learned to do it, too. I made nearly all my clothes in high school. I’ll have to admit, I was still a little envious of the girls who bought their clothes in town at Belk.

I still have a dress my mother made for me when I was in first grade. It is a delicate pink, has a lace-trimmed collar with tiny tucks across the front and a wide sash to tie in the back. I treasure it.

Handmade dress, photo by Diane Overcash

I probably will never have to make another dress or blouse but I could if I needed to. I remember the excitement going to the fabric store and picking out the pattern and cloth for a new dress or skirt.

We grew a garden, (hoeing tomatoes in the hot sun kinda sucked), canned food for the winter, made jelly and jam. These were tasks that we learned to do out of cultural necessity. They were handed down as part of living a life.

My mother could crochet like nobody’s business. I was fascinated watching her hands turn rhythmically, using the hook to pull thread through loop after loop. We had a tall Christmas tree covered in white crocheted angels, bells and snowflakes. It was stunning with white twinkle lights.

Every skill learned leads to another. It’s a continuum. Mine started early in childhood. I am convinced visualizing pattern pieces laid out on a piece fabric so they fit like a jigsaw puzzle with no cloth left over, led me to know where to place a tree in a painting.

These are valuable life skills that I learned as part of my childhood scenery. I learned to tolerate frustration when things didn’t go like I wanted them to. I learned to assess the situation and decide what to do next. I learned to problem-solve. If I didn’t know how to do something, there was a good chance I could figure it out.

There is powerful, intrinsic satisfaction in making something of your own from scratch. When ideas travel from your brain and out your hands there is nothing quite like it. Your mind is focused and everything else seems to fall away. And look at the power of what you did. A pottery bowl, a painting, a dress become a statement of your divine intelligence.