Way back in 1979, I spent the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of college with my grandparents.
I attended school in Washington state but had landed a job through a family connection near them in Nebraska. So off I went to a basement bedroom on their farmstead.
It was magical, if you’ll forgive the cliché. Busy days at work, quiet nights chatting and playing cards with my grandparents.
A closet at the farmhouse held games and toys – including decades-old metal and wooden trucks and tractors – that grandkids had pawed over for years.
One closet gem was a weaving kit. It was simple, a blue loom 8 to 10 inches square, intended for children to create potholders from chunky loops of brightly colored yarn.
So, that summer, I wove a potholder in yellow and brown.
Alas, my grandparents are gone. But I have that potholder still. It has accompanied me through 42 years, a coffee-cup cushion on my desk at every job across multiple states. It is a token from my past, my comfort for today.
What is yours?
Memories, more memories
No jelly smears or butter blobs
I have a couple of grungy teddy bears, including one I purloined from my little brother. He claims he doesn’t miss it (I’ve had it for more than 40 years), but I’m sure he cries into his pillow every night. The teddy bear, used when my bro first got him, is considerably bedraggled. But he has a silly, lovable face, and my cats have always appreciated him. My mom, the original teddy bear giver, would be 106 today.
Ahhhh! Such a nice comfort cushion. Thanks, Emily.
I have my grandmother’s kitchen table, heavy oak legs that have been painted over with coats of white or cream enamel that peels; the top is enamelware, white with black border and an interesting design in black. It probably dates from the 1930s.
As for the video: I remember when I was a counselor at Camp Dove (St. Scholastica’s in Covington) as a high schooler, we went on a day trip over to the Slidell area. We sang the usual “99 Bottles of Beer” and “Just Plant a Watermelon on my Grave,” and other ditties along the way. It was hot, of course, in that bus, and when we got to the destination, we ate Spam sandwiches on white bread w/ mustard. Nothing ever tasted so good! I cringed when I saw the Miracle Whip in the piece! Blasphemy!
Darlene, what nice memories. The camp story is wonderful. Thanks for sharing.
Loved the Comfy Cushion essay. I wish I would’ve saved some of those potholders.
I remember that potholder! And the stories of your summer in Nebraska!
Wow, Noel. Such a little scrap of fabric. Such a good memory. Thanks for reading about it.