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Crafting a Legacy

Before my mom taught me to knit, crochet and sew,
that knowledge was passed to her.


My Grandma Hansen was a tough lady. The kind who wouldn't tolerate rude behavior or disrespect from anyone old enough to control the tone of their voice. She could still a child squirming through church with an outstretched hand. She was also the kind who, with a wink and a smile, would slide an M&M across the table to a kid to shy to ask for one, then elicit a whispered, "Thank you," with a gentle, but expectant, "You're welcome."

Grandma Hansen in 2005.
Grandma was also a crafter. She gifted many crochet dolls to her grand-daughters. One Christmas, each grand-kid was given a pillow case. Mine, a black and white panda print with lace on the cuff, is still in circulation. Another year it was a pajama set, wrapped and topped with a little crochet animal. My brother's gift topper was accidentally sent out with the wrapping paper, and she made him another. It should be noted, at this time, the number of grandchildren was quickly overtaking the 30 mark. It is probably incalculable the number of mittens she turned out in her lifetime.

Page through Grandma's pattern books and you will find the names of expectant mothers written next to the pattern they had chosen for their baby's coming home sweater. Grandma always cautioned them to look carefully at the sweater — not the baby — in the picture before a final decision was made.

Grandma Hansen passed away just before my first child was born. I think about her a lot. I can hear her laugh whenever Laney says something outrageous, which I know she'd have gotten a kick out of. I wonder how often she would have had to holler at Oliver to put the ottoman back the way it was supposed to be. Sometimes, his smile is just like hers, and I wonder if it would work as easily on her as it does on me. Probably not.

One thing Grandma didn't do was use a lot of fancy yarn. She also didn't make a lot for herself. She wore the same hat and mittens, which I'm pretty sure she made, for as long as I can remember. I think about her all the time while spinning. Especially if it is a particularly nice fiber blend. Sometimes I finish a skein and wish I could hand it to her and say, "Here, Grandma. Make something nice for yourself." Or I could make something for her. Or do both.

It would have been especially fun to spin with Grandma; let the knowledge flow the other direction for a change. Even if she didn't actually spin herself, you can bet she would have let me talk her ear off about fiber, spindles, wheels and frenetic shop updates. Perhaps she is here with me every once in a while, laughing along with her wild great-grandkids, looking stern when they cross the line.

Laney is starting to knit now. In that, Grandma and her legacy live on.
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