Remembering the Big Chief

My dad is the person who taught me to crochet. How did he learn such a skill? The story goes that when I was quite young, he worked at a bank. There was a group of older ladies there too, and on their lunch breaks they would sit and crochet together. They convinced my dad he ought to learn, and the rest is history. He taught me when I was pretty young, and it was the first real craft that I truly embraced and, over the years, became fairly skilled at.

There's something very therapeutic about plugging away at row after row with yarn and hook and in the end holding up a closely twined fabric that somehow came together from all those loops and twists. While it's no longer my favorite craft, I still enjoy it and dabble in it from time to time. It led me to knitting and many other things that I enjoy, and it taught me about the craftsmanship to be gained from fine-tuning a skill, the necessity of learning to rip out and start over as part of the learning process, and the deep satisfaction of turning out a quality finished product after many hours of steady work.

And it was something I shared with my dad. Almost three years ago now we lost him after a long battle with cancer, and I miss him all the time. He didn't crochet all that much over the years, but while he was sick and undergoing treatment he picked up the hook again and made a few things, and we spent some hours crafting together and just enjoying each other's company in quiet. We liked to do that.

My dad wasn't perfect, but he passed on some good things, like his determination, his strength, and his abiding faith in God, among others. While crocheting certainly isn't the most important of those, it's still a special one to me. The photo above hangs in a prominent place in my craft area, and when I see it I'm reminded of all those things I learned from those early crafty days. I'm also reminded of my dad, who was a pretty special guy.

Thanks, Dad. Miss you. Love, Kitten.