Today, I was invited to share a crochet story through a Facebook group called Blazing Hooks that I am a part of. I was so moved by the nostalgia I felt when writing that I thought I’d post it here. It really has nothing to do with Firmly Grounded (well, except that I like to crochet with a cup of coffee nearby lol), but it may be a pleasurable read for somebody so here it is:
When I was 7 years old, My grandmother taught me how to crochet. I used to love to go to her house when she, my mom, and my aunts would get together for crochet bees. They would do this frequently. I especially loved it in the winter when they would have a warm fire crackling in the wood stove (I was raised in Massachusetts as a child where most homes had some source of wood heat). Often they would have coffee and treats while they visited. I was so happy when I learned to crochet and I remember so vividly the very first time my grandmother taught me. One thing that always stuck with me was that she warned me to take care not to split the yarn and not to crochet to tight (which I still have a tendency to do).
Since I was so young, I only had the patience to do small projects like coasters and hot pads. However, when I was 16 years old, I decided to crochet a baby blanket for when I married and had my first baby. I used a “v” stitch pattern. It turned out perfect! But, my friend’s aunt ended up having a baby, so thinking I could just whip up another, I gave the first blanket to her. However, after putting much labor into a new shell stitch blanket (I still had very little patience for big projects), about half way through I noticed that with each row, the blanket had gotten wider. I put it up and never finished the project.
Next Tuesday, my youngest child will deliver my first grandchild. After not picking up the crochet hooks for 18 years, 3 years ago, I began crocheting newborn caps to donate to a ministry that reaches out to save babies in foreign countries. Then again, I didn’t crochet for at least 2 more years. I picked up my hooks again in the fall of 2010 as I began crocheting scarves for the homeless. I completed 3 scarves when I found out about my daughter’s pregnancy.
I decided that I would make not only a blanket (that I never made for either of my children), but an entire layette for the first time. I started it about 2 months ago and just finished the last touches on the sweater two days ago. I have arthritis in my hands and in the process developed “crochet” elbow. But I love crocheting so much now that I just couldn’t and can’t stop. I just take some pain meds and rub on some Aspercreme and continue to do this wonderful craft that brings me so much joy and relaxation.
I remember when I was little, my grandmother was a perfectionist. My grandfather would always tease her because she was constantly undoing her work and redoing it. He told her he didn’t know how she ever completed a project for all the “ripping out” she does. Often, he would catch her in the act and say, “There goes the ripper outer…ripping it out again!”.
I treasure this memory and think about it often…especially since I have followed in her footsteps and often find myself “ripping out” enough to complete at least 3 projects for every one.
I guess the nostalgia that comes with crochet is a big part of why I love it so much.