Monday Memories

I've been struggling through learning something new this weekend.  Well, I guess that struggling wouldn't be the word for it.  It's been delightful but I know I have to concentrate on it more than I do when I'm doing some of my other had work because I'm still trying to get the hang of it.  It's not often when you get to cross off something on your "life list", but I at least got started on another notch this weekend.  My friend Dollars and Sense came over and taught Rachel and me how to knit.

Mind you, we're rank beginners, with many slubs (or whatever they're called in the knitting world) in our dishcloths, but I'm delighted with the progress that I'm seeing.  It's a lot faster than quilting, I can verify that.  And it's faster than the last thing I crossed off my life list, learning to tat.

I have a lot of odd things on my life list, most of them having to do with heirloom fiber arts and gardening.  I became fascinated years ago when a friend offered to teach me to braid rag rugs but told me that, as it's a dying art, I needed to commit to teaching someone else, if she taught me.  (No, I still haven't taught anyone else to do it but then again, I also haven't practiced myself!)  The idea that certain things would die out if not passed along to the next generation intrigued me.  Now there was something I could do to perpetuate the chain from the past that I was so interested in to the present where I found myself.  So I learned to braid rag rugs.  And I learned to quilt.  Then I learned to tat, and now I've learned to knit.

Tatting is what I want to remember for my Monday Memories.  I learned to tat because it was on my life list.  It was on my life list because of my Mamaw.

My grandparents on that side are both full-blooded Swedes, first generation Americans.  Their parents came over on the boat, settled in Texas, married other Swedes, and farmed.  My maternal grandmother had 11 brothers and sisters; my maternal grandfather boasted 13 brothers and sisters.  They were raised during the Great Depression, in frugal families who were used to hard work.  They made many of their own goods:  clothes, food, decorative work.  One of the things that my great-grandmother taught her six daughters was to crochet.  Another was to tat.  While I can remember my grandmother crocheting very much when I was growing up, I never saw her tat.  One day I asked her why she didn't tat.  She said that her mama had taught them all but none of them kept it up.  I get the impression that, while she liked the finished product, she didn't like the hassle of doing it.  Tatting takes time.  Crocheting, not so much.

Stubborn descendent of Swedes that I am (and if you have any Scandinavian blood in your veins, you'll know what I mean), I decided that I was going to learn to tat.  My mother bought me a comprehensive book, filled with lovely patterns and some instructions, as well as a tatting shuttle and thread.  I strove mightily to learn to tat from that book, to no avail.  I love to read but in order for me to learn to do something, it's easier to watch someone in real life.  Fortunately, I came across such a person, in my quilt guild, of all places.

Eight years ago, Wilma Walker taught me how to tat.  She is known in Cincinnati as the "Tatting Lady" because of all her education and outreach to the community, mainly through the Cincinnati Museum Center.  One Sunday afternoon, I took a lesson from Wilma.  She made me promise (what is it with all these promises?) to practice 20 minutes a day.  She said that it would teach my hands what to do, even if my brain was confused.  I diligently practiced, made some edging for a skirt, some little medallions, and a doily for my mother. 

Mother was so proud!  I made it out of a grade of thread that I would not use today (it was rather bulky looking in its completion) but she loved it.  It took me about 9 months to finish, but I also had a newborn baby and her quilt to finish at the same time, so I thought I was doing pretty well.  We took it over to Mamaw when I was in Austin for a visit and she oohed and aaahed over it as well.  She passed on a few memories about tatting with her mother and sisters and how they wished that they'd kept it up.  Then she asked to see me tat.  I proudly brought out my shuttle and made a sweet little circle for her.  I thought the fact that I was doing so well was what caused her to look so...stunned.  No, maybe it was confused, because the next thing she asked me was, "What is that?  Where is your needle?"

She pointed at the shuttle that I'd used to tat with and looked around for whatever necessary needle I had apparently misplaced.  I realized at once what had happened.  "Your mother tatted on a needle?" I asked.

"Yes, Mama tatted on a needle and that's how she taught us all to tat.  What are you tatting with?"

I told her it was a tatting shuttle and that's what my tatting teacher used to teach me.  She smiled and said, "Well...isn't that something?  Are you going to learn to tat on a needle?"

I smiled back at her and said, "Mamaw, I love you dearly, but I am not going to learn to tat on a needle.  This will have to do."

She seemed fine with that.

I wonder now if she ever learned to knit.

Posted by dollarsandsense

Wow! Great job! Is Rachel still having fun with it?

Posted by TrainingHearts

That doily is beautiful! I've never been good at the art of crocheting or knitting.