Crochet, Iced Coffee and Canasta

Crochet, Iced Coffee and Canasta

When I was a little girl, I was very close to my maternal grandmother, Nanny. My grandparents moved in with us when I was in elementary school so that my grandmother (who had heart problems from childhood rheumatic fever) could be near world-class healthcare in Boston. I was in sixth grade when she passed, and it was a huge loss for me.

Nanny never had idle hands. I think it is a genetic thing as both her sisters, my mother and myself have always been makers and very talented sewers, knitters, and crocheters. Nanny would sit in her red upholstered rocking chair with her elastic stocking-clad feet in white Minnetonka moccasins propped up on an ottoman, crocheting away with a tall iced coffee next to her at all times. I would make the iced coffee for her, and she liked it very sweet. I fondly remember her long handled iced tea spoons and tall, gold rimmed glasses adorned with green leaves.

I would sit with Nanny for hours at a time, learning and perfecting my own crochet skills, and marveling at the tiny detailed lace she would crochet for tablecloths and doilies. I was astounded at the tiny metal hook and thin thread she would use, wondering how she could possibly see let alone work in such minutiae. Little did I know that such a skill and love of detail would become my passion much later in life.

When she wasn't crocheting, Nanny loved to play Canasta. It was another activity we enjoyed together for hours on end. Sadly, I don't remember how to play Canasta, but my grandmother's passion for crochet endures through me.