MENU

Grandpa Les, and The Joy Of Making Something Yourself

My grandparents’ house, still well taken care of.

The evening before NEFF, my mother picked me up at the train station in Springfield.  “I want to show you the house where I grew up,” she said, “The one your grandfather built.”

My mother had grown up in Springfield before moving, when she was in high school, to Deerfield.  My grandmother still lives in this house, but the last time I’d seen the house my Grandfather, Grandpa Les, had built I’d been much younger.  Since it was only a little bit out of our way, we swung by.

My grandfather, and his side of the family, has always been handy with tools.  For my grandfather that meant he loved to tinker – one of his hobbies was fixing clocks.  He had a fully tricked-out woodshop in the back of his yard that he fashioned himself.  For his sisters, one is a beautiful seamstress (though her eyesight is going now), and the other was handy with anything to do with yarn: knitting, crochet, tatting, rug making, etc.  Their mother, my great grandmother, used to dye her own wool to make rugs in intricate detail.  Going to my Grandfather’s childhood home (my great aunt, the seamstress, lives there still), the attic is a treasure trove of crafting supplies that are a joy to behold.

My grandfather built this rock wall for my
Grandmother’s Garden.  It’s still standing.

When my grandfather wanted to learn a new skill, he got a book.  Or more accurately, books.  When you go to his library in my grandmother’s house, you find books on electricity and wiring (he eventually got his electrician’s licence), plumbing, and carpentry.  My grandfather was an early adopter of the computer, and there’s books on coding and how the internet works (the internet ones make for funny reading, nearly 15 years later).

He loved to take things apart to see how they work.  I see that same quality in myself – I love to learn a new knitting technique, and then fiddle with it until it breaks down.  When I see a knitted sweater or a stitch pattern that I’ve never seen, I will shamelessly look at the inside seams or inspect the use of knits, purls, yarnovers and decreases.

Grandpa Les wouldn’t buy something if he could make it himself – and he could make nearly anything.  Need a rabbit hutch?  He’s got you covered.  His grandaughter wants a play kitchen? Give him two weeks.  I think he really understood the satisfaction of doing something yourself, to take the time to do it right.

I find that same joy in knitting and crochet.  And even though our crafts use different materials, every once and a while, while I’m meditatively working, I’ll think of him.  It makes me happy.