December 19. This year commemorates my grandmother’s 121st birthday. She was born in 1899.
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| Thread sketching, fusible applique on painted canvas. Detail of "Memories of Gram." |
My Gram taught me how to sew on a button. Her aprons and dresses always had pockets. Her favorite color was yellow. She had a green thumb and loved the black-eyed Susans that grew each summer in the front yard. This piece, called “Memories of Gram” [2009], portrays some of my memories of her.
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| "Memories of Gram" 2009, 16" x 16" |
Grandmothers are wise. They have more life experiences to draw upon than their children and grandchildren. They (try to) impart that wisdom on us—even if we're not listening to it.
They also have an uncanny knack for knowing their grandkids. Mine did with me, anyway. I dated a guy for a number of years during and after college. He was a really nice guy. We worked in the same profession and had a mutual circle of friends. He was hard-working, smart, responsible and practical. My parents both liked him... and my Gram liked him too. But I remember one time—quite out of the blue—she said I would not end up with this guy. What made her say that?
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| "Memories of Gram" detail: photo transfer. |
Did she know my curious nature and thirst for knowledge would take me other places—like grad school? Did she sense I was not ready—at that time in my life—to settle down? Or that I needed a mate with a different set of complementary or contrasting traits? Her "grandmother radar" had some kind of insight.
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| "Memories of Gram" detail: machine stitched black-eyed Susan. |
Fast forward 100 years...
December 19 is also the anniversary of my husband’s and my first date.
Pure coincidence or providence? I like to believe my Gram concocted a plan to have my husband's and my paths cross... and decided that our first date would be on her birthday. The year was 1999.
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| Quilt label on back. Detail of machine stitching. |
Happy Birthday, Gram.
