This safety pin doesn't matter

I make jewelry sometimes.

"I made it," I might say, when someone asks about a necklace or bracelet.

"You made the beads?" they sometimes say.

No. I bought the beads and the findings. I guess I just designed it and put the pieces together.

These are some prayer beads I made, designed and put together.

I made so many. I didn't have anything to do with them all, more than in the picture.  I don't sell jewelry. I do give some away, so I did that, gave a few prayer beads away.

Usually, I just make things for myself. No one has to like them except me. If  I don't like them any more, I can take them apart and remake them, redesign them, into something else.

Today, I designed this.

There aren't four. I just liked the way it looked on different background colors.

I didn't make the elements of the necklace. The heart and brass ring were made by the brother of one of my best friends. He is a metal artist. I didn't make the safety pins either. I'm not sure who makes safety pins.

I simply slid the pins onto the leather thong that Jerry sent with the heart.

It didn't take much effort, although I did plan the way they would look. And I did have to hunt up a few extras of the same size, so that was effort, I guess.

I'm wearing it right now, the necklace. I'm not sure how often I will wear it. It's really for me, to remind me, to give me something tangible to hold onto.

So, I am not wearing a safety pin to show that I will stand in the way of anyone who would hurt someone because of their color, or race, or religion, or sexual orientation, or any other thing that folk use to separate out one from the herd to beat down. I will, but that's not the importance of the pins.

I could wear them inside my clothes where no one would see.

I am wearing a row of them, a chain of them, 24 of them. The number isn't significant. I could wear one or a hundred.

It doesn't even matter too much if I wear them at all. It only matters that they remind me of what and who and where my attention should be focused. When I see them, or feel them, when I put them on, or when I take them off, I remember what they stand for, who they stand for, and what is important.

Maybe you want to make a chain of them or pin a square of them onto your shirt. Use one to put your house key onto a keyring. String several together to hang on your coffee cup handle or to dangle down from your rearview mirror. Or perhaps put one inside the waistband of your skirt or inside your pants pocket, where only you will know it's there.

The pin doesn't matter. The people matter. Don't let us forget that.