The comments people kindly left on my last post set me off on a trip down memory lane. In that post, I mentioned how cool I still think it is every time I turn a heel on a sock. I started to wonder how many stitches I have made in the past 4 decades since I taught myself to knit and crochet when our daughter was a toddler. I'd done some needlepoint and crewel embroidery using small kits when I was a kid, but wanted to make more functional things, so taught myself knitting and crocheting. When I started higher education, I had less time, but I still looked forward to my little bit of stitching time. I remember how, in my first couple years of grad school, I was under a lot of time pressure. Bill was working graveyard shift and I was working as a TA, taking a full load of classes as required for the TAship, doing my own research, then writing my thesis. Bill would leave for work at about 9:30 pm. I would set the alarm for 1 or 2 am and place it across the room, so I would have to get up to turn it off. Had it been within reach, I would have simply turned it off and kept sleeping. I'd get up, make coffee, and do my reading for the day. I wouldn't have time once things got going--Bill would swing by from work in the morning, pick us up, drop me off at the university, take our daughter to school, then go home and go to bed. If I was TAing a night class, he'd pick me up when it was done, drop me off and head to work. If not, he'd pick me up at 5ish, we'd go home, help with homework if necessary, have dinner, hang out together, then he'd go to work. I would sit in bed and crochet, usually for just 10 or 15 minutes, since I was too tired to do much more, then I'd sleep for a few hours. I looked forward to those few minutes all day, though! I made a lot of blankets during that time. The first one was just a scrap blanket. I'd gone through all my scraps, tied them together in a big ball, chose a mindless stitch pattern, made a chain, and crocheted. I didn't have to count after the chain was made and I could just crochet away, even when half asleep. we had that blanket for a decade and it was still going strong, but we left it behind in a move, because it was heavy. When that was done, I started another, less scrappy blanket and gave it to a friend. Then a fellow student's wife was having a baby, so I made a blanket for the baby. It was so important to my mental health to have those projects to work on.
Throughout my time in the higher education system, I always felt like I was really on break when I could read novels instead of academic writing and I could spend more time knitting, crocheting, and doing a bit of cross stitch. Every Christmas break, I would spend at least one or two nights up almost all night listening to Christmas music, watching a Christmas Carol, and working on a big project that would be a Christmas gift. I loved that and looked forward to those nights. Sometimes this was a blanket or other thing for our daughter, but later on, near the end of my time in academia, I was working on a large project for Bill. I took a filet crochet chart, usually done with thread, and made it with yarn and a bigger hook instead. We had a large wall of dark paneling that it would be perfect for.
This was one of our dogs at the time--she was highly bonded to Bill. She loved all of us, but he was her favourite person.
She made it clear from the moment she came home from the shelter that she was a bed dog, not a sled dog!
Later on, after we'd moved and life took a different turn, I had more opportunities to see the power of stitching. I was asked to teach a crochet class to women in the shelter for those fleeing domestic violence and abuse. I did. We were there with donated supplies and they seemed to be enjoying themselves. The person who organized these classes sat in a corner and watched with her mouth open. Near the end of the class, one of the women looked at me while sort of hugging her project and asked, 'Can I keep this?' 'Oh, yes,' I replied, 'It's yours to keep.' 'Thank you,' she said,' I am making a blanket for my daughter's doll. I hope she likes it.' Later, we'd gone to a dinner in which both the organizer and the director of the shelter were present. They told me that they had their doubts about the usefulness of the classes, but that they were the ones that the women liked the most and they all said they got a lot out of them. That made me really happy.
When I'd left academia, I taught myself other techniques, including needle tatting. When we moved to a place with a new yarn shop in town, They held a meeting looking for instructors and I went. when they saw I could needle tat, they jumped on it and we'd scheduled the first class before I left. It was filled and I was able to recommend good resources so the shop always made a lot of sales in addition to the classes always being filled. I taught various things there for a few years and it was always gratifying to see the way people blossomed as they learned a new skill they'd been wanting to learn and often wanted to make something for someone they loved. This was true in all my classes, but especially in the needle tatting classes. Almost all of my students there were older and they'd talk about their grandmothers--one brought her grandma's crochet hook to join her picots. She cried at the end of the class, saying she never thought she'd be able to do it and how much it reminded her of her grandmother. Once, two friends attended the class together and they told us how they'd been talking on the phone with one another, cheering each other on. When one of their husbands asked what was for dinner, she replied, 'Make your own dinner. I'm tatting!'
I have so many happy memories that involve yarn and thread. Thank you to Vicki, Linda, and Iris for your comments that brought me to this little journey down memory lane!
