Every so often – more often that I’d like to admit – I get these, well, nutty ideas, which makes me wonder if my brain has shrunk in my declining years and is now about the size of an acorn even a squirrel would spurn.

Usually I keep my nutty ideas to myself and wait until they go away. Or barring that, I run with them and end up figuring out how to make jumping jacks out of old Christmas cards, or fabricating twisted, but rustic, garden fences out of beaver-chewed poplar I’ve lugged home from lakes and ponds. Oh, yeah – and then there was that REALLY bad shawl I knit from incredibly red mohair studded with hail-sized lumps of something white-ish. But those ideas pale in comparison to my current brainstorm.

This new nutty idea is persistent, won’t be banished and can’t be stitched or nailed to anything, so I thought I’d toss it out into the great universe of all things remotely possible to see if it will either sink or soar.

It will take me a minute to get to the pith of the idea so bear with me.

I have a lot of needlework books and magazines. And more keep coming at me – the ones I buy and the ones that find their way to me in other ways.

Surely, I thought, other stitchers have gently used needlework books and magazines they’d like a decent home for – books on crewel embroidery, weaving, Swedish darning, needlepoint or other subjects dear to the stitching heart. Perhaps the books in those collections ramble, as mine does, from applique to the zen of knitting and date from the turn of the century.

What if, I thought, there was a way to establish a small library filled only with needlework books where stitchers might stop by to consult them? What if that library were large enough to serve as a place for groups to meet and to work on projects? A place where classes could be taught for little or no cost and where experts could give talks about needlework and related subjects. A place where the art and craft of needlework could be handed on to new generations.

After I’ve drawn my last breath, my needlework books and magazines – old, new and in between – will still be right there on my bookshelves. I’d like those books to find their way into the hands of needleworkers. Surely, others feel the same way. Perhaps, if we pooled our books and made a library for them, something unique to benefit stitchers of all ages might be created.

My guess is that many needlework books longing for a central repository are stacked up in homes throughout Maine.

I don’t know whether or not my nutty idea is feasible or even necessary. I have no way to assess how such an idea might be implemented, how to find space, or even where money for staff to support such an undertaking might come from. I’m not what you’d call the managerial type. I’m one of the dreamers.

I only know the idea has haunted me for several years. And that’s why I am throwing it out into the ether for better minds than mine to mull upon. There are people who know how to organize such things, how to raise funds, how to get grants, how to crunch numbers, and how to midwife such projects into being, people with vision who know how to set such things into motion.

And you know what the worst part of this nutty idea is? I not only want a needlework library for Bangor, I want branch needlework libraries EVERYWHERE in Maine.

So there it is, my crazy idea. Do with it what you will. And thanks for listening.

Snippets

Ellen Harpin, founder of The Ships Project, is the winner of the Knitter of the Year Award presented annually at Knitting Magazine’s Stitches event. The award is presented to the person who has best shown how knitting can transform the lives of others. Harpin has prompted legions of volunteers to knit and crochet comfort items for men and women serving in the U.S. military. Since 2001, more than 173,000 items made for The Ships Project have been shipped overseas. To learn more about project and how to assist its efforts, visit http://www.theshipsproject.com/.

Ardeana Hamlin may be reached at 990-8153, or e-mail ahamlin@bangordailynews.net.