CHRIS & BOB GUSTIN
makes from local poplar wood. We hired Brown County High School’ s Eagle Manufacturing to handle one of the many steps involved, the drilling of holes for the pins. Luckily, we got our last batch of looms back from Eagle on the day students began spring break( which has since been extended until next school term). Finishing the looms took us another week.
By late March, it became clear what our business needed to do. We increased the stock of the kits to fill demand from families needing activities at home. We added new items available through our website and Etsy. We found work for my apprentice, Stephanie, which she could do while we practiced wearing masks and social distancing. And we tried to help others.
I decided I could help the facemask shortage by sewing cloth masks and providing them to friends and neighbors who needed them. What I didn’ t anticipate was that an item we had in abundance— small stretchy sock loops— turned out to be a solution to an elastic shortage for the others making masks. Some of these cotton loops are rounder than others, and we discovered those work great to hook around your ears for facemasks. The happy accident means we have donated thousands of sock loops for others to use in making masks for
personal use and for health care workers. We also began shipping orders to other weavers in need of yarn and supplies. And we somehow found time to weave and work in the garden. We used the phone to stay in touch with our daughter in Hawaii and our son in Minnesota. Along the way, we took some time to listen to John Prine. He died in April after being infected with the coronavirus, and his music meant a lot to us. We’ ve been married for more than 47 years, but we’ ve loved his music for even longer than that.
Growing more of our own food seemed like the thing to do when daffodils announced that spring, indeed, would come as usual. Bob prepared the garden beds and I planted seeds in the greenhouse. The peace and centering I found while planting gave me hope for the future. If this seed, the size of a pinpoint, can grow into a beautiful petunia, our country can get through this scary time.
Some of the seeds I planted this spring were way past their prime, some even dating back to the 1990s. While I was tempted to throw them out, something in me wanted to give them a chance. Maybe they’ ve just been waiting for that. Maybe that’ s what we’ re all waiting for— a chance to show that we’ re better than
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May / June 2020 • Our Brown County 27