I was visiting my Grandma a few weeks ago and she gave me this set of pillowcases. She found them in her linen closet. They had been there a very long time. I do not want to put the iron to them so they are wrinkled.
Growing up I thought my Grandma could do anything. She fished (by herself) and cleaned them. She hunted with Grandpa (and cleaned what they shot). She had the most beautiful flower gardens in the neighborhood. She cooked the “bestest” meals. And oh could she bake. I can remember getting out of the car and walking around to the door and the smell of cinnamon would greet you. We would almost run over each other trying to get inside for some of Grandma’s warm, homemade cinnamon rolls.
But the thing I remember Grandma always doing was some sort of craft. She was an excellent seamstress making all of Grandpa’s dress shirts, her, Mom and my aunt’s clothes all out of newspaper patterns. She did a lot of embroidery, too. This set of pillowcases are embroidered and then have a crocheted edge. They are so pretty. She gave me a set to send to my daughter that are also cut out. I wish I would have taken a picture of them.
I always said I got my crafting talent from her, but she insists I got it from her mother who started it all. My great Grandma was an accomplished oil artist. One of our Catholic Diocese has a number of her paintings hanging in the old Mother House.
Grandma taught me most of what I know, not so much sitting down, going through step by step, but by watching, talking and just spending time with each other. I knew from an early age, I wanted to be just like her. As I grew older, I knew I never would be. She is going to be a tough act to follow.
