More about Mom and her sewing group. The town-wide Sewing Group was comprised of many subgroups--knitting, crocheting, needle point, and actual sewing. There were two big sales a year, with all proceeds allocated to local charities. Each member made a commitment to contribute a certain number of items to her group (um, don’t know if any men were involved).
Mom group knit little baby clothes, and I mean little--newborn to one year-old. Mom’s specialty was owl sweaters (a row of owls with button eyes across the chest), size zero to 3 months. I don’t know how many blue, pink and light green sweaters she knit over the forty or so years that she went to her Monday afternoon meeting, but she was a big producer of a very popular item.
However, during the last few years I doubt that she contributed more than one sweater, and I pretty sure that the group waved her obligations, although up until the last year when her memory faded away, she hardly missed a meeting. After she stopped driving at age 95, someone in the group would pick her up and off she would go with her knitting bag, but probably only to smile and eat the goodies provided. They loved her presence and on her 100th birthday her sewing group friends celebrated by planting a tree on the grounds where she lived.
Of course we, her daughters, wanted her to knit an owl sweater for each of our grandchildren. The first few great-grandchildren were lucky enough to get one, but the younger ones were too late. When my sister asked Mom about it, Mom pursed her lips and said that she had to knit for the sewing group. This didn’t see right or fair. Mom was being selfish. Well, maybe not. Maybe we were being selfish. Mom must have figured that it would be selfish of her to knit for great grandchildren when her sweaters could raise money for less-fortunate children!. And besides, Mom was not a big gift giver: ‘I want my grandchildren to love me for who I am, not because of anything I give them.’
I still have Mom’s knitting bag with a blue owl sweater half completed. My sister thinks we should finish it. Um, maybe that will happen. Mom would like that.
Mom group knit little baby clothes, and I mean little--newborn to one year-old. Mom’s specialty was owl sweaters (a row of owls with button eyes across the chest), size zero to 3 months. I don’t know how many blue, pink and light green sweaters she knit over the forty or so years that she went to her Monday afternoon meeting, but she was a big producer of a very popular item.
However, during the last few years I doubt that she contributed more than one sweater, and I pretty sure that the group waved her obligations, although up until the last year when her memory faded away, she hardly missed a meeting. After she stopped driving at age 95, someone in the group would pick her up and off she would go with her knitting bag, but probably only to smile and eat the goodies provided. They loved her presence and on her 100th birthday her sewing group friends celebrated by planting a tree on the grounds where she lived.
Of course we, her daughters, wanted her to knit an owl sweater for each of our grandchildren. The first few great-grandchildren were lucky enough to get one, but the younger ones were too late. When my sister asked Mom about it, Mom pursed her lips and said that she had to knit for the sewing group. This didn’t see right or fair. Mom was being selfish. Well, maybe not. Maybe we were being selfish. Mom must have figured that it would be selfish of her to knit for great grandchildren when her sweaters could raise money for less-fortunate children!. And besides, Mom was not a big gift giver: ‘I want my grandchildren to love me for who I am, not because of anything I give them.’
I still have Mom’s knitting bag with a blue owl sweater half completed. My sister thinks we should finish it. Um, maybe that will happen. Mom would like that.