Sorting Hobbies

Jack knocked on his sister's door. "June, come out and keep me company. Mom and Dad have gone out to dinner."

"Come in and help me up," Jack heard.

Opening the door, he found his sister crouched on the floor, looking under her bed.

"What are you looking for?"

"I just dropped my knitting needle. I think it rolled under the bed."

"It's behind you.

"No, that's the one I had in my hand. I set the other one on my lap, and it fell on the floor."

"I didn't even know you knitted."

"I started learning yesterday."

"I thought you were crocheting?"

"That was last week. I couldn't keep the stitches even, so I'm trying knitting instead. Oh, there it is."

"Well, good. Bring it out in the living room and keep me company."

"Help me up before you go, please."

"Here, grab my hand." Jack pulled, and up she came.

"Thanks."

"Sure. Did you borrow grandma's knitting needles?"

"Yeah, she said if I like to knit, she would buy me a set of my own. But I don't know. It's even harder than crocheting."

He spied the jumbled mess. "What are you making?"

"Just a scarf."

"Looks lumpy."

"I know. Darn it all. I think I'll give up."

"Without a good go at it?"

"Yep. It just doesn't seem right for me."

"Suit yourself. I like building my model cars. I've been doing it for years."

"They turn out great. I wish I could find a hobby I'm good at."

They walked into the living room and sat on the couch.

"What have you tried?"

June laughed. "I think everything. Last summer, I tried quilting, but everyone else in the class was way better than me. Then, I took up the ukulele. It was fun, but I really wanted to play the guitar."

"I remember. I lent you mine for a couple of weeks."

"Right. My fingers hurt like crazy. So, you got your guitar back. Mom suggested that I take up piano, so I got down the old books of grandma's and learned to play a few songs. But my left hand and right hand didn't play well together."

"Neither did we when we were young. But we get along famously now. You have to give these things time."

"I just get so frustrated. Maybe I'll try it again. But after I quit that, I tried grandpa's clarinet. You really have to blow hard to make that thing work. All it did was squeal."

"I remember. It was awful," Jack said, laughing.

"I know. Sorry."

"And you took up the flute next, right?"

"Yes, but playing made my pinky hurt, here at the knuckle, and I kept getting dizzy. I played the recorder for a while."

"I liked that. Not the high one, but the one with a lower sound."

"Yeah, the alto recorder. It has a warm sound."

"Why did you quit playing?"

"I got teased by the kids at school. They kept talking about flutophones and the third grade," June said, rolling her eyes.

"Right. But it sounded good."

"Tell them that," June said, shrugging her shoulders. "So, I put it away and started drawing."

"You tried to draw a picture of Mom if I recall."

"Thanks for reminding me. I don't want to take up Picasso's form of art."

"It was pretty bad."

"I know. Painting turned out to be something I enjoyed. But Mom got so mad when I spilled the paint on the carpet. I'm such a klutz."

"You'll grow out of that. Don't worry."

"I like to color, but that's a bit juvenile."

"If it's fun and makes you happy, do it."

"I still do sometimes. I like to color with the little kids at church."

"What about your Star Wars collection? That's a good hobby."

"An expensive one--have to have money to spend on it. At least the cars you buy are a few dollars each."

"True. Didn't you like that looping thing that made potholders?"

"Sure. But how many do mom and dad need? I made myself a collection for when I get married and made four more for grandma and grandpa. I could make you a set."

"Thanks, but too girlie. I have in mind to buy car-themed stuff for my apartment when I get one."

"Remember the pottery wheel mom and dad bought me for Christmas? It kept me busy for hours, but it went wonky on me and eventually broke."

"You know, June, you should write more. Your poetry isn't bad."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean it. You should work on that."

"My poems are hokey."

"Maybe they are. Don't look at me like that. Let me finish. Once you have your ideas down, you can read them over and change words here and there. Look up words in the thesaurus, if it helps. I think you're a good writer."

"I don't know."

"Try it. At least you won't have a mess to clean up."

"Oh, yes, I will. I'll have paper wads strewn all over my room."

"You could use a laptop."

"Naw, I like putting pencil to paper."

"Want some popcorn?"

"Sure. Why not."

"Don't be so down on yourself. I heard that people who want to be good at any craft have to put in 10,000 hours."

"What?!"

"It's what I heard. The more time you put into a craft, the better you get, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"No guessing about it. It has to be true."

"I can see that, but first I have to find out what I'm good at and what I like."

"Just keep at it. I know you liked painting, maybe you could set up a small area in the third garage. You also liked the recorder. You could play it out there when you get home from school. And, if I were you, I would work on the poems. Who knows, you might find you love writing. I know you like to read. Reading is crucial if you want to write well. At least, that's what my creative writing teacher said anyway."

"Thanks, Jack."

"What are big brothers for?"