Mom and dad.

My dad was a method man: a creature of routine, a listmaker.  He tended the garden, but more importantly, planned the garden.  He kept track of the weather every day for years.  He made the chore charts where each of us had a symbol, since that fit better than writing a whole name.  (I believe I was a star.  But maybe a triangle.) Each member of the family had a file where he meticulously saved report cards and awards.  He was the family photographer, traipsing us one by one onto the back porch for the summer photo, and in front of the fireplace for the winter photo.  And of course the photos of all eight of us kids together (on the living room floor, legs in a V, during the winter, and at my grandparents' cabin in the summer).

 

My dad was also a very private man.  As we cared for him last spring, my siblings gathered around his bedside, I noticed the irony that such a quiet person could leave such a large, boisterous family as his legacy.  When I sat down to write today, to begin my series of posts about me, I started by looking through my box of childhood photos, and by thinking about the man who took them.  And how much we really do have in common.

My mom was the maker of stuff, always knitting or sewing, as much from necessity as pleasure, I think.  This skirt was my birthday gift that year -- long and plaid, made of shiny taffeta with a big ruffle at the bottom.   I can remember so many things she made just for me:  the green knit sweater dress with the petal collar and leaf-shaped pocket, the aqua blue sweater with the embroidery on the front (which I wore to sing at midnight mass on Christmas Eve), my meticulously coordinated junior high wardrobe. 

And when she knit sweaters for Christmas, she had to make eight of them.  (Look closely at the photo above:  those are all handknit sweaters, each with a slightly different pattern.  My sister and I had the same solid color, but the patterns were different on ours too.)

Growing up in the 70's there were craft trends aplenty to keep her hands occupied:  macrame, needlepoint, crewel embroidery.  At one point our walls were adorned with homemade God's eyes (remember those?).  This is the cloth I'm made from: never content unless I've got a project in the works, and another waiting in the wings.

Comments

[shana]

I didn't know you were from such a big family. Whoo Hoo for big families (did you know we're expecting #6 this fall?).
Have a great weekend,
Shana

[chel]

I LOVE this- I love family stories, especially about large families (I'm an only child, many of my parents' siblings have passed leaving no or little family behind). Thank you for sharing this with us :)

[Amy]

This is a beautiful story. What a great job your parents did...they should be proud.

[Robin]

My Mom was always making things too for us. Many handmade clothes, dolls, curtains etc, etc. At our house now we have a tendancy to take the family photo in front of the fireplace also. It just seems like the natural place.

[Michelle]

I just love your blog and I've passed an award your way. You can read about it here:
http://oneordinaryday.wordpress.com/2010/04/09/pineapple-float-some-things-you-didnt-know/

Thanks for inspiring me!

[anne]

Such a great post. I have six siblings so I can relate!