Memories Are Made of This


Knitted by My Aunt Velta

I think if my dad could have said he was an orphan and got away with it he would have. My mother’s family lived in Colorado while we lived in California. They could have all lived on the moon for all the times we got together. I guess I had the best of all worlds as my folks liked to go out and every once in a while I would end up at my Uncle Joe’s and Aunt Velta’s house.

Out would come the most unusual play things. The one I remember the best was a metal tube with a straw that you would insert into the tube. With the drop that I scooped up on the end of the straw I would blow the biggest, hardiest bubble. Oh I loved it. My aunt did everything to keep me from crying to go home and keep me entertained.

It didn’t take much because they interacted with me a lot. It was a whole different world being with them. But that was rare. I barely knew them when all was said and done. But through the years after leaving California we connected again. Having the computer has made that difference.

I’ve known for many years that my aunt makes beautiful quilts and have read with much longing about her quilting retreats with her daughters, my cousins. My mom sewed somewhat but she was never really much of a crafter. We did not do too much together before I moved away to Hawaii.

One day I posted that I was knitting again and put up a photo of a project on Facebook. My aunt immediately sent me a photo of the above children’s outfit she had knitted. You could have knocked me over with a stitch marker. I never knew she knitted.

Again I felt sad. She and I could have sat together and I could have learned from her. She could have taught me many things from the looks of what she had just made. Memories are made of the things we learn and are passed down to us that we still treasure today. Though I never forget that it was my neighbor who first taught me to knit, I would have loved it to have been someone in my family who had passed it down.

My daughter and my granddaughter want me to teach them to knit. But neither have the time or inclination to sit with me and do it. I am sorry about that. Maybe one day when I am long gone they will take up the needle and think about not taking that time. But before that happens I try to make them as many things as I can. At least that is a memory I can leave behind.

So if someone is after you to teach them what you know, don’t let the moment pass. Go ahead. Make some memories.



2 thoughts on “Memories Are Made of This

  1. Dearest Karen,
    What a sweet blog! We have such fond memories of you as a child. It was always such a pleasure to have you with us or to be with you. I always remember how you loved “potato shits” hee hee You know I never did much quilting or knitting until I was older. My mother taught me to knit when I was 14 but I never did much, I basically taught myself again about 20 years ago. I did make almost all my kids clothes when they were growing up and my own clothes as well.

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