Skip to main content

Warming up America one Granny Square at a Time

My earliest memories of my grandmother are of her crocheting. She would make intricate, delicate doilies and table covers. I was fascinated how she was able to wield the slender crochet hook and create these lacey items. My mother also crochets; her specialties are afghans, and sweaters.  I figured I would never carry on the tradition of creating with yarn—this was based on my attempt at knitting. I only knitted one item, a lavender scarf that started being about six inches wide and ended up doubling its width. How I did that, I will never know!
Then years later, at work I saw a co-worker by the name of Sophie crocheting. I remarked to her I could never do that. She responded that was nonsense, and offered to teach me.  During our lunch breaks, my fumbling fingers tried to get used to working with the crochet hook. Sophie was always encouraging and patient. Eventually, I was able to produce stitches that resembled something other than a large knot. Once I was able to maneuver with the yarn and the crochet hook as an extension of my hand, there was no stopping me!  It was near Christmas, so everyone in my family, whether they wanted one or not, got a crocheted scarf that year. During that winter, I crocheted two afghans, which got displayed on my son’s bed and the couch respectively.
I have to admit, with each project, I did improve at crocheting. My son’s teacher was going on maternity leave and I used my new talent to crochet her a baby afghan.   She absolutely loved it and couldn’t believe I made it by hand.  I felt by far, this was my best work.
Then, I fell into a rut. What else could I crochet? One day, I thanked Sophie for teaching me crocheting. She informed me that another co-worker, Catherine, was collecting granny squares for Warm up America, which provides woolen afghans, scarves and hats for nonprofit organizations such as Women and Children’s Alliance, Special Olympics and veterans, to name just a few. She is always looking for help in this great cause.
 Finally, I could put the bags of yarn to good use! But granny squares? I panicked—I didn’t know how to make one of these. Catherine, like Sophie, patiently taught me how to make granny squares. Sometimes, I would produce granny pentagons or octagons, but I kept trying. Catherine never refused my squares, even though they were not my A game. She always found a spot in an afghan she was working on. Just like everything in life, the more I practiced, the better I became. I was able to advance to mixing colors, making the squares resemble a wooly kaleidoscope. Our group even was featured on the local news. We were filmed sitting around a table crocheting, having fun and good conversations.
Granny squares are by far my favorite.   I love the fact that they are created by yarn that normally would have been discarded.  Then, put together, they can be made into something bigger than its original self.  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"B"lathering about soap

I have noticed lately I have picked up a new interest: hand made soaps. There are two incidences that introduced me to this world. The first incidence was perusing YouTube and stopping at a thumbnail of a soap maker's reaction video. I clicked on it and enjoyed the humorous take of the soap maker. She was down to earth, spunky and informative at the same time. Then I clicked on her channel and was intrigued by the vibrant colors and decadent designs. It was a mix of being soothing and fun.  The second incident was a feed from a soap company that was on my Facebook page.  Their glorious photograph of a swirling black raspberry hand made soap defied what I thought soap could be. If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn it was a dessert. My mother would at times describe colors as being yummy and this soap fit it to a T.  What is it about this mundane item like a soap bar?   I wonder if it has to do with seeing all of the news about the importance of hand washing that has

How's the haircut?

Isn't it amazing how a bad memory can stick to you like a wad of gum in your hair? You try to remove it, but in order to do that, you need to cut off some of your hair? At first, you’re apprehensive, but in the process, you end up with a nice hair style? At the beginning of my career, I was working at an apartment complex.  I must have upset my boss by interrupting him when he spoke to me.  I hadn't realized I was in a bad habit of talking over him. I was so anxious to prove I was on top of all the assignments, but in this process, wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise. One day, he held up an eyeglass case and said this signified when it was his time to talk. In front of the other staff, he actually held up the case while he spoke to me. I was embarrassed by his demeaning ways. I didn't put any credence in his opinion. I wrote him off as being a mean old man! For a while, I carried this memory like a wad of hardened gum in my hair. It was brittle and would have

Only one day for love?!

Last week at my Toastmasters club meeting, we ran out of time for Table Topics. This segment of the meeting is when a club member is assigned to give the other members questions so they can give an impromptu 1-2 speech on that topic. Typically, the questions are related to the theme of the meeting.  Naturally, the theme of the meeting was Valentine’s Day. It was offered that next week these Table Topics could be used. Then it was shared that may not be a good idea, since the questions related to romance and “lovey dovey” stuff. I said “It shouldn't matter if we do this next week. Do we only have one day that we can talk about love?!” I have been thinking about this the day after Valentine’s. How much emphasis is focused on this day that it has to be super romantic? What about the people without partners? Isn't it cruel to exclude them from a basic feeling such as love? Also, as I grow older, I’m not a huge fan of all of the paraphernalia that is sold during this day. Sure,