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Happy Mother’s Day

Here comes the one that’s tough to do.

No one would have enjoyed coming into the store and seeing what Elaine and Ivy have accomplished more than my mother. She loved sharing with Elaine, discussing the weaving and knitting projects Elaine was working on long before we opened the store.

My mother was not a knitter. She crocheted when she had the time. She crocheted lace doilies and tablecloths.

My mother had doilies strategically placed around the house. She had them under table lamps. She gave them away. They were like snowflakes, everyone was different. She didn’t use a pattern. She used what I thought was string. Turns out, it was laceweight yarn. (Who knew?)

As a child I had no appreciation for my mom’s crocheting. I thought the doilies were placed around so my brothers and I would get yelled at when we spilled something on them. They made it harder to dust, which was one of my childhood chores. Tablecloths were brought out for holiday meals. I guess she didn’t care if we spilled on them. (I’m still scratching my head over that one) As an adult (with Elaine hitting me over the head) I came to realize the creativity and work that went into the doilies and tablecloths.

It didn’t seem like Mom crocheted much. She was busy cooking, cleaning, and raising my brothers and me. She proudly told others she was a mother and a housewife. Today, she would be a stay-at-home Mom. She taught all five of us (I have four brothers) to help others; work hard, and make the most of life and ourselves, while we were young. I have many memories of her helping all five of us with our newspaper routes.

Hey, did I tell you I won a “Newspaper Carrier of the Month” award? I got my picture in the paper and a trophy. (Sorry, did you see how I turned a story about my mother to a story about me? I’m working on this ego thing.)

I hope she is watching and crocheting today. I have no doubt that if she were here today she would be hanging out in the store. She would be helping customers, complimenting Elaine and Ivy, and telling me to stay in the back room. We miss her!

I’m not sure what happened to all the stuff she crocheted. I hope one of my brothers or their kids aren’t spilling on them.

Don’t hug your mother, hold her. It’s good for both of you.

Mom(s), this one’s for you

Our crazy lives!


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