“Grammy” Squares

My Grandma was a tiny woman (barely 4’ 8” tall), born of Austrian immigrants.  Her name was Anna, but all her neighbors affectionally called her Aunt Anna.  She taught me to make potato candy and she also taught me to crochet. 

I could sit and watch her crochet for hours.  Her hands would bob and weave, seeming to dance with the needle and yarn. And she never focused on her pattern or her hands—she just focused on me and the others in the room and chatted.  And that room—her sitting room—was full of items she made: afghans, pillows, and doilies.  I adored the doilies—so dainty and delicate!  (Sadly, I could never master the skill to make doilies—I crochet too loose to work with cotton thread.) But she had an afghan made of Granny Squares—I always called them Grammy Squares because they reminded me of her—that I adored!

I remember saving my allowance to buy yarn to make a blanket for my bed.  I was so proud to purchase the pink and white skeins!  I had decided to make granny squares and I began in earnest.  I made square after square and saved them in a bag under my bed.  Then the music bug bit me, and I wanted to learn to play the piano.  My parents surprised me with an old upright piano for my birthday!  But the more I practiced and learned the piano, the less time I had to crochet squares.  Every time Grandma visited, she asked to see my squares and she was increasingly disappointed that I wasn’t progressing.

 I made an extra effort to make more squares, and during one visit, I announced that I was close to being able to join the squares together!  All I needed to do was purchase the joining yarn.  She asked if I was going to use white or pink and I said neither…black! She looked appalled and said no!  It would look awful she insisted.  I insisted it would be beautiful (I seriously thought it would—what did I know?) Both she and mother went on and on about the hideousness of my idea and I got disgusted.  I grabbed my squares and ran to my room and threw them under the bed.

On my very next birthday, Grandma gave me a large wrapped bundle.  When I opened it, I was puzzled—it was a pink and white crocheted blanket.  “TA-DA!” she said. 

“I don’t understand,” I told her.  “I’m making a pink and white blanket Grandma.”  (This one was different though—not granny squares, but large solid-colored blocks in pink and white.)

“Not anymore,” she explained.  “Your mom gave me your squares.  I took them all apart and made you this!”

I was devastated!  All my hard work—POOF—gone!  I started to cry and ran from the room.  I never even came out for cake.  Years later she apologized and we made up.  She encouraged me to keep crocheting and I have.  Every winter I crochet at least a lap blanket and have donated quite a few to the homeless shelters around here.  But I have never made another granny squares blanket.