You know you want me to give you one of these

My grandma was a master at Hungarian embroidery like the stuff pictured here. Really amazing stuff. It looked the same on the right side as it did on the wrong side, a result of very careful stitching. She embroidered most of my First Communion dress, and all sorts of pillows and doilies.



When she got older, she changed to a different sort of folk art. A much, much uglier kind. With squeaky acrylic yarn and what I would consider bad crochet. I don't know why the change happened, or when. I imagine old, arthritic fingers played a role, or maybe she just got tired of her polyester shirts sliding off the hangers.



At one point, I had about 50 of these beauties, and I now have 5, and no idea where the others are. I keep these in the basement, and can't remember using them in the last 5 or so years. I found them last night while I was cleaning up.



They're definitely spectacular in their ugliness (double ugly, my colleague would say), and yet I'll never get rid of them. There's something familiar about them -- I think she started making them when I was about 13, and I remember them hanging in my closets, covered in horrible late-80s clothing. With puffy sleves. Ah. Memories.

I had in mind to write about folk art, and how much it means to me to be part of an art form, but I can't seem to inspire myself to do so while looking at crochet hanger covers. With puffs. I especially love the one with the black sparkly edge. It definitely deserves to be holding up one of my 4 black evening gowns...or one of my 3 red ones.

My grandma died a few years ago at the age of 96. My only really visceral memory of her is of her telling me a story about a elf who was sewing with a too-long thread, and he had to jump out the window to pull the thread taut, and that it would have taken less time to have a shorter thread, even if it meant tying more knots. I'm sure there was a lesson in there, and I'm sure it was about taking the time to do something the right way, but in light of the found objects pictured above, right now I can't stop laughing. My other memories of her are all via my cousin Suzanne, who does this amazing, spot-on impression of grandma saying, "Vell....if I live dat long." She said that a lot, starting when she turned...oh...65. I'm sure she couldn't have known that she would live another 31 years, but if you ask me, she probably could have crocheted covers for a LOT more hangers had she stopped it with the complaining.

None of my grandparents is still alive, but I do have one great aunt for whom I have a real soft spot in my heart. She's a knitter, and still knits baby hats for newborns. She's pleased that I've taken up knitting, and my hope is that I can visit her soon, and that we can have a sit down, a glass of scotch and soda, and knit together.

We won't be making any more of these.