My first post has got to be about the person who taught me to crochet—my grandmother. Her name was Pauline. During my elementary school years she worked as a waitress in the restaurant she owned with my grandfather. If I close my eyes and imagine her, I still see her dressed in her crisp white uniform and apron, ready to take orders from the locals who gathered daily at their place.
When Gran wasn’t working, she liked to watch television and crochet. One summer when I was eight years old, she taught me to crochet. She patiently taught me chains, singles, doubles, and trebles, and she taught me to crochet in the round. Then, she set me free for a while and told me to try and make clothes for my Barbie doll. I tried and erred, ripped out, and tried again. Although I can’t recall that I ever made Barbie a sweater or top, I do remember that I made her a fabulous, ruffled skirt! I crocheted enough chains to fit her waist, joined them, and then I added round after round of more and more stitches. As I practiced, the ruffles grew. I recall showing Gran the doll wearing her new skirt, and I could tell by her smile that she was pleased with my progress.
Since that summer, I’ve crocheted so many things—afghans, sweaters, runners, doilies, tops, purses, and even jewelry. Every project was fun. Gran gave me a wonderful gift for life.