Lisa

January 24, 2026

I have three different stories to share about how yarn and fabric connect me to my mother and her mother, both gone now. It is not so much a mourning for them, but more, a way of lessening the loss, of holding their presence near…

1. Crocheting began with my Italian grandmother. She taught me to crochet when I was about 10 and I have had long periods in my life where I have not done it at all. But lately, I am crocheting a lot and it brings me a great deal of comfort. Simple things: hats, scarves, granny square blankets, nothing where I have to be too wrapped up in any instructions, but can just create with my hook, making “a thing” that was once just a very long piece of yarn. I find the process of crocheting to be a meditation, with repetitive counting to keep track of the stitches. My mother was a knitter, and although I tried, I never become one too. Still, when I crochet, I think of both my mother and her mother, and how yarn can become a “thing” that brings warmth and comfort and many colors to life, for myself and others.

2. My mother made almost all our clothes when my sister and I were growing up. I have only inherited a little bit of her ability with a sewing machine. I feel a major triumph when I successfully wind the bobbin! I have never made anything from an actual pattern. I should try someday. What I have done is take fabric remnants from things like the flannel shirt I wore a lot when I was nursing my son (now a 27-year-old man), or Halloween costumes I made for him, or the vintage curtains that hung in my paternal (Greek) grandmother’s house, or the bridesmaid dress I wore in my mother’s sister’s wedding when I was 12 (a dress my mom made for me (maroon velvet skirt, pink cotton bodice). All these pieces that have some memory attached to them. I sew squares together to make a long piece, add a velvet or other very soft backing piece, and voila! A scarf is made. People I have given them to really love them. I love them and have four of them that I cannot give or sell because the fabrics in them are far too meaningful.

3. The last story to share is about my mom and her knitting. I have projects for sweaters that she started and never finished, and I don’t know what to do with these pieces. I can’t possibly unravel the work that she put into them. I have them in bags and am saving them for a day when I can figure out what to do with them. Maybe connect them to make a blanket. She also made hundreds of little coin-shaped pieces from men’s ties. She put them into color-coded baggies. I wish I had found this project before she died so she could have told me what they were intended for and what I could do with them. I can’t throw them away. Now that I am retired it, I will take some time to figure this out.