Tuesday, May 20, 2014

reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic... a story from back in the day.

 
A few months ago, during an unprecedented snow event here in Alabama, Baby Girl had some free time from school and spent a good portion of it with her grandmother.  Upon which, she learned a little bit about a lost art. 
 
She learned to crochet. 
 
It did not come easy at first, as Baby Girl is a lefty, and it took several days before Granny could figure out the best way to teach her.  And as Granny said, "I'm not sure if I dreamed it or not, but it just came to me one night while I was asleep, my brain had been thinking about it for so long, worrying about teaching her and keeping her from getting frustrated." 
 
I also re-learned how to crochet that very week as well.  Mom had taught me several decades ago, back when I was in high school.  At the time, I did indeed learn how to crochet, but as a teenager, I thought there were FAR better things to do with my time (yes, all teenagers can be COMPLETELY wrong like that, on most occasions).  Like ride to the local 7-11 for a Mt. Dew and a bag of Funyuns, and see who all might be in town at any given hour. Because guess what? I was a teen when there were no text messages or social media to notify your friends of your exact location every minute of the day.
 
Anyway, I have picked up the act of crocheting all over again.  Have made several blankets. They are not perfect, they are not anywhere near the caliber of my mom's handiwork, but still I am proud.  She has also rekindled her love of crocheting (or because she never cusses, when I was younger she thought it was the funniest thing to say "croshitting" instead to see my reaction). 
 
Which brings me to tell you this latest story about her, and her crochet moments of late.  Buckle your seatbelt. 
 
Yesterday, I was driving her home from a dr. appointment.  She was in the process of crocheting a baby blanket for am upcoming friend's shower gift. I asked, "Mom, who taught y'all to crochet?".
 
She replied, "Well, Grandmother taught me some at home, but also Mrs. Alexander at school.  You see, our principal, Mr. Alexander would take all the 7th, 8th and 9th grade boys every day for an hour or hour and a half and they would practice basketball in the auditorium.  He had the best basketball teams, no one could beat them for many years.  They practiced just about all year long, but sometimes in the spring they would go out and play baseball or other times Mr. Alexander would read to them. But mostly, they practiced basketball.
 
  At the same time of the day, his wife, Mrs. Alexander would take all the 7th, 8th, and 9th grade girls and teach us how to crochet or how to do embroidery.  We would make blankets or doilies and those who couldn't crochet very well, or didn't like it as much, well, they would embroider pillowcases and such.  And then she would also teach us things like, you shouldn't have sex with your husband while you are menstruating."
 
And there you go.  Back in the day, it wasn't just reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic.
 
Nor was it all basketball and crochet. 
 

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