On Friday, July 20, the Village of Peninsula, population 602, was transformed into Hogwarts. Wizards and the like abounded; costumes were incredible, magic was everywhere. We were Ollivander’s Wand Shoppe, and thousands of wizards and their muggle companions, from the very young to…….mature came to be measured for the perfect wand. Young wizards were advised that magic was a serious thing; it was to be used wisely and responsibly. Wide-eyed and serious, they nodded acquiescence.
The police department estimated 5-6,000 people flooded the Village. The feeling in the Village was the incredible feeling of community, a feeling so amazing that not even a band-aid was handed out, and there was no litter. Just the glow from, as they say, children of all ages, basking in the magic.
What is is about this book that has captured the hearts of people world-wide and inspired so many to share an experience? Why has this phenomenon transcended differences?
Bill Jones was 79 this week. Bill is a master leathersmith and has been doing his craft
for over 40 years. He uses beautiful leather and solid brass fittings, and guarantees his bags for life.
Bill always has a kind and witty word for us; he asks about the family, and stops in with ideas and just to talk.
And Bill tells stories: stories about the people in his life today; stories about his pets; stories about his past. Like how he was a musician in the old days and how he traveled. And how he learned his craft. Bill took a bus to NYC to find someone to teach him about working with leather. He visited dozens of shops to no avail. Just before he was due to board his bus back to Cleveland, he stumbled upon a tiny shop loaded with leather. The proprietor was a wizened fellow with a strong eastern European accent. “Come in,” he said, “I will teach you everything I know.” Bill hesitated since he would miss his bus and forfeit his ticket. He spent hours with the ancient leathersmith, learning how to do quality work that was made to last.
Fast forward to the mid-sixties and a street called Coventry Road in Cleveland Heights, Ohio. Bill opened a tiny shop in this area where Hell’s Angels, hippies and Orthodox Jews were seen on the street. He made bags and leather sandals, and sold Frye boots. People who lived near the area still talk about Bill and his work.
Our gallery smells like leather. Leather bags fill a large corner of the space, asking to be touched. They soften the feel of a space loaded with pottery, glass, photographs, wood, paintings and little jewelry. They are incredibly well crafted, and made to last. Why go coach when you can go first class?
By fromskilledhands (
July 7, 2007 at 8:20 am)
· Filed under here and now
My Dad died Monday evening. He was pain-free and relaxed in in Hospice bed; my sister and I were nearby; Hospice staff standing, silently witnessing the transition.
We had a celebration of my Dad’s life yesterday. The chapel was over-flowing. One man had been in kindergarten with him. My dad was 86. People from his play reading group and his book club. People I had known all my life and hadn’t seen for years. People whom I had never met. People who had to tell me when their fathers had died. My mom’s brother from Cincinnati came. I didn’t know how important to me it was until I saw him. The service was at 1:00pm; then we went to my sister’s house to celebrate his life. It was a great party. My Dad would have loved it. Photographs from all stages of his life, memory books for people to share their thoughts, enough food to feed an army. Surrounded by the warmth of family, friends and acquaintances. Several people have called and told us they are still smiling. I think my Dad is smiling his crooked grin reveling in the joy of relationships, basking in the love of family. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and my Mom are dancing under the stars to the strains of the Anniversary waltz.
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