To Make

My grandmother Helen passed away a couple nights ago. Helen was the person who taught me to knit.

Although this is not going to be a tribute to my grandmother--gosh knows I've talked about her a lot and you all know how deep for her my feelings are--I wanted to talk about something other than knitting and purling that she taught me.

She taught me how to make.

She taught me how to make the most perfect, flaky pie crust. (It has to do with how it feels and ice water is a must.)

She taught me how to make peace. Gosh knows her husband, my grandpa Herman, spent hours in his shed each day sculpting nudes--and she didn't like it too much. She also didn't like that he displayed them in the mirrored shelves behind the bar in their mobile home--but . . . he was making stuff so it was all good.

She taught me how to make a sunny-side up egg.

She taught me that when you retire that it is okay to paint other people's pottery and get it fired than struggling to make your own from scratch. That is how she made for me my beloved nativity set.

She taught me how to make a Manhattan (although I have never consumed one).

She also taught me to cherish what other people have made. I remember seeing little items her three daughters made for her when they were school children still displayed proudly probably more than 30 years after she received them. Notably, a paper weight that my aunt Sandy made for her. It always sat on her kitchen counter. I wonder where it is now.

People ask me all the time if I have shown Girlfriend how to knit and if she likes to knit. The answer is yes to the first and the answer is no to the next.

I don't feel bad that she doesn't like to knit. But, I would feel bad if she didn't want to make.

Making things, whatever they may be, be it a happy sunny-side up egg in an old frying pan, a patchwork pillow from your child's well-used swaddling blankets, a hovercraft (my brother made one when he was Girlfriend's age--12--story to come later), a model railroad, love, peace, jokes, a macrame plant hanger, you name it, is something we need to hang onto. We need to hang onto making dearly. 

Because if we don't, then all we'll ever have to do again is hit Target and be done with it.

The End.