Makers Of Wonderful. Marvelous Pigs

I think the crafty gene skips a generation. Through my own informal research (which has been exhaustive if not scientifically vetted), I’ve determined that most of the people I know who love to create things out of other things do not end up with children who share their passion. But they almost always seem to have a grandparent who passed their love on down the line. I don’t know if it’s because children always try to define themselves in opposition to their parents, or if kids get so sick of the trappings of crafts that pile up everywhere in the creative process, or if they have never had to stretch their creative muscles because their parent already knows how to make whatever they want, or what, but I have seen this pattern play itself out time and again. My aunt lives for crafting (one of her world-famous sock monkeys was even featured on the “Ellen DeGeneres Show”), her daughters not so much. I come to life behind a sewing machine or crochet hook, but my mother, bless her heart, who has come through in a pinch when she has to, dreads the fabric and yarn domain. So, it seems we are either crafty or not. And some things will resonate with us or they won’t. Phoebe Gilman wrote a book about a freckle-nosed girl with a messy room and a penchant for making stuff. She called it The Wonderful Pigs of Jillian Jiggs, but I think it’s really about me.

http://www.amazon.com/Wonderful-Pigs-Jillian-Jiggs/dp/0590413414

http://www.phoebegilman.com/home.html

Made With Love

When I was very young, my grandma crocheted an afghan for our family. It was meant for general use, but I laid claim to it early on. I was fascinated by how all those squares were each unique. I looked and looked for repeats, but there were none. My grandma was just too clever for that. I also liked how each square was individual on the inside but brought together by a unifying border of black yarn. That afghan made me feel connected to my grandma--thinking of her choosing odds and ends of yarn from her wooden bowl and sitting on her red plaid couch watching “Wheel of Fortune” while working on a gift for us. When I lost my grandma recently, that afghan of many colors came to my mind again for the first time in years. I wondered if it was still around somewhere so I could take solace from it, but it was just wishful thinking. It was long gone and that fact, added to fresh loss, felt really unbearable. Then I realized something wonderful: my grandmother hadn’t just given me a blanket, she had shared with me a love of creating things and the best way to remember her was to make myself a new afghan. Which I promptly did. In Patricia Polacco’s The Keeping Quilt, a family tells their story of love in every stitch of a beautiful blanket. I keep mine on the back of the couch and think of my grandma every day.

http://www.amazon.com/Keeping-Quilt-Patricia-Polacco/dp/0689844476

http://www.patriciapolacco.com/