It is now a bit over a month since my mother-in-law shuffled off this mortal coil. My brain accepts that she’s gone but sometimes it relapses to fool me into thinking we should phone her, check in and see how she’s doing. It’s probably an established routine so it might take some time to reprogram my thinking and let it sink in that’s she’s no longer going to pick up the phone to hear Gregg’s “It’s me from across the sea!”, a greeting that always made her chuckle.
I’m a deflector; I deal with unpleasant things by pretending all is well. After my father died I would drive by our childhood home and visualize him in the kitchen, reclined in his lazy boy watching TV. Although I was fully aware he was gone it was comforting, like receiving a warm and fuzzy hug from beyond. But alas the new owners dissolved my little feel good fantasy by painting the white exterior a soft yellow, I sighed at the sad reality of it all and now I look up while driving by and that warm, fuzzy feeling is gone.
I suppose not being at Wynn’s bedside during her final moment allows my mind to play tricks. Our last and past conversations keep running on a reel in my brain. There’s no real harm in keeping her alive and vibrant in my mind, it’s not like we talk and she replies, that would be crazy. I see it as keeping her memories bright so they’ll fade slowly as life keeps chugging along.
I have a wonderful remembrance of my in-laws hanging on the shop wall. When Gregg returned home after his mother’s passing, he brought the rug I hooked for his parents nineteen years ago. It was my second completed project; each block a story of the ‘Little’ family recorded in wool.
I started in the center with the Royal Canadian Air Force crest. Jim received his pilot’s licence in Claresholm, Alberta. It was perfect that the actual crest colours are the ones I love most so it set the theme nicely for the remaining rug. Not only could I exercise my creative chops it also provided me with a thrilling colour palette.
Each block surrounding the crest represented their life, their loves and their likes. In the upper left hand block I started with their marriage date, a pretty important foundation in which all else was constructed. Wynn’s maiden name was Achurch and of course Jim was a Little so I added their surname initials. At first I wasn’t sure how to depict their three sons in such a small space so I made them thin silhouettes with background separating each head and then added their names, Terry, Gregg and Dale.
Wynn took up painting in her sixties, a creative outlet that she enjoyed exploring. She was very prolific and we have boxes of her canvases out in the garage and around the house and Shane has several of her pieces hanging in their apartment. She liked large scaled, bold abstracts in oils but also tried her hand successfully at subtle water colours. I added an artist brush and paint palette to the design.
Wynn loved to knit so I hooked needles and a few rows of knitting, perhaps a shawl in the making. Unfortunately she was allergic to wool and had to use alternate materials. We have a cream afghan, a gift 26 years ago that is still on our bed; except for a bit of pilling, acrylic seems to be ageless. She used to make Phentex slippers to sell at hospital fund raisers and sent a steady stream of them to her sons. Gregg dutifully wore his until the last pair had worn to the point his socks were the only thing between his foot and the floor. I held my tongue, a wife shouldn’t come between a man and slippers his momma made, but as that last thread bare pair was allocated to the garbage I was out the door and shopping to buy a beautiful pair of rich, brown leather replacements. I’m not a fan of man-made materials but it was mainly the colour choices I objected too, especially the orange and fluorescent green and once a pink pair that stood out like a blinking, neon sign. Gregg was man enough to pull it off but my goodness, they almost glowed in the dark! Knitting was a big part of Wynn’s life but she stopped a few years back saying her fingers were not as nimble as they used to be, but she talked about it every now and then with fond remembrance.
Jim, always athletic and active, loved to fish and golf. I cheated on the golf ball and used a grey marker to draw in the dimples and they still show after almost two decades. The rug was never exposed to sunlight, always resting on the back of a sofa in their windowless TV room so it is as fresh, bright and bold as the day I gave it to them.
Although Wynn was born in Saskatchewan she moved to New Brunswick at age three and classed herself a maritimer, loved this coast and harboured a potent love of lobster. We would sometimes send her a taste of home for special occasions and later when she found it difficult to take the meat out of the shell we would send her the canned alternative.
She went to the pool three times a week for Aqua-size; she loved to swim and the water kept her knee limber. Despite reaching a century old, Wynn didn’t take any medications. She was extremely healthy except for a bum knee and remained completely sound of mind up to about a week before she passed away.
Jim worked for Air Canada therefore the symbol of the iconic maple leaf inside a circle was a must. The four roundels surrounding the crest were from the plane he flew in the war, a B24 Liberator. As a submarine hunter, he flew escort for convoys bound for Britain. After the war he worked for Trans Canada Airlines which is now known as Air Canada flying Vicounts and Vanguards through DC8’s, L-1011’s and finally 747 commercial jets in his 35 years of service. Circumstances only allowed him to get to grade 7, but he was intelligent, well respected and experienced an impressive career.
Both Wynn and Jim were avid Bridge players, meeting once a week at alternating homes of their bridge playing friends. Even after Jim died, Wynn continued to play. Her skills were highly honed so that when she moved into independent living and discovered there was a weekly bridge table in session, and after she realized they were less knowledgeable with the game rules and strategy, she shared her expertise and gained a lot of respect from the amateur players. To commemorate Bridge, I hooked the suits in four quadrants, making up one playing card to represent their years of dedication to the game.
The rug had been in storage when Wynn moved into nursing care. I was worried something would happen to it so Gregg retrieved it and guarded it with his life on the trip home. This rug is one of a kind in the entire world....imagine that! Designed and hooked with love and full of priceless sentimental value.
This rug was made long before the idea of opening a shop was a glint in my eye so I didn’t have the wool choices I do today. After my first rug was on our bedroom floor, I’d started gathering wool like a crazed addict. This piece was made using all recycled wool from Frenchie’s, a few plaids here and there but mostly solids. This was back in the day when you could go in the door and come out with several garbage bags of wool clothing which they cut with scissors and charged you half price if you told them it was for crafts. Those days were over once they realized how much money they were losing with the growing number of rug hookers in the area all sweeping the store for wool, so I gathered my stash back in the glory days and built up a rather large collection of a myriad of colours, enough that I was able to do a bit of shading here and there making some of the backgrounds to the motifs interesting with stripes of companionable colours.
The rug will hang in the shop for a while to share with visitors. It’s so rich on the wall and I am so very proud of my meager beginnings and the gift I offered my in-laws. A story rug, a small monument of their existence, a constant reminder they lived and were loved. Every time I walk by the rug I smile.....
I’m a deflector; I deal with unpleasant things by pretending all is well. After my father died I would drive by our childhood home and visualize him in the kitchen, reclined in his lazy boy watching TV. Although I was fully aware he was gone it was comforting, like receiving a warm and fuzzy hug from beyond. But alas the new owners dissolved my little feel good fantasy by painting the white exterior a soft yellow, I sighed at the sad reality of it all and now I look up while driving by and that warm, fuzzy feeling is gone.
I suppose not being at Wynn’s bedside during her final moment allows my mind to play tricks. Our last and past conversations keep running on a reel in my brain. There’s no real harm in keeping her alive and vibrant in my mind, it’s not like we talk and she replies, that would be crazy. I see it as keeping her memories bright so they’ll fade slowly as life keeps chugging along.
I have a wonderful remembrance of my in-laws hanging on the shop wall. When Gregg returned home after his mother’s passing, he brought the rug I hooked for his parents nineteen years ago. It was my second completed project; each block a story of the ‘Little’ family recorded in wool.
I started in the center with the Royal Canadian Air Force crest. Jim received his pilot’s licence in Claresholm, Alberta. It was perfect that the actual crest colours are the ones I love most so it set the theme nicely for the remaining rug. Not only could I exercise my creative chops it also provided me with a thrilling colour palette.
Each block surrounding the crest represented their life, their loves and their likes. In the upper left hand block I started with their marriage date, a pretty important foundation in which all else was constructed. Wynn’s maiden name was Achurch and of course Jim was a Little so I added their surname initials. At first I wasn’t sure how to depict their three sons in such a small space so I made them thin silhouettes with background separating each head and then added their names, Terry, Gregg and Dale.
Wynn took up painting in her sixties, a creative outlet that she enjoyed exploring. She was very prolific and we have boxes of her canvases out in the garage and around the house and Shane has several of her pieces hanging in their apartment. She liked large scaled, bold abstracts in oils but also tried her hand successfully at subtle water colours. I added an artist brush and paint palette to the design.
Wynn loved to knit so I hooked needles and a few rows of knitting, perhaps a shawl in the making. Unfortunately she was allergic to wool and had to use alternate materials. We have a cream afghan, a gift 26 years ago that is still on our bed; except for a bit of pilling, acrylic seems to be ageless. She used to make Phentex slippers to sell at hospital fund raisers and sent a steady stream of them to her sons. Gregg dutifully wore his until the last pair had worn to the point his socks were the only thing between his foot and the floor. I held my tongue, a wife shouldn’t come between a man and slippers his momma made, but as that last thread bare pair was allocated to the garbage I was out the door and shopping to buy a beautiful pair of rich, brown leather replacements. I’m not a fan of man-made materials but it was mainly the colour choices I objected too, especially the orange and fluorescent green and once a pink pair that stood out like a blinking, neon sign. Gregg was man enough to pull it off but my goodness, they almost glowed in the dark! Knitting was a big part of Wynn’s life but she stopped a few years back saying her fingers were not as nimble as they used to be, but she talked about it every now and then with fond remembrance.
Jim, always athletic and active, loved to fish and golf. I cheated on the golf ball and used a grey marker to draw in the dimples and they still show after almost two decades. The rug was never exposed to sunlight, always resting on the back of a sofa in their windowless TV room so it is as fresh, bright and bold as the day I gave it to them.
Although Wynn was born in Saskatchewan she moved to New Brunswick at age three and classed herself a maritimer, loved this coast and harboured a potent love of lobster. We would sometimes send her a taste of home for special occasions and later when she found it difficult to take the meat out of the shell we would send her the canned alternative.
She went to the pool three times a week for Aqua-size; she loved to swim and the water kept her knee limber. Despite reaching a century old, Wynn didn’t take any medications. She was extremely healthy except for a bum knee and remained completely sound of mind up to about a week before she passed away.
Jim worked for Air Canada therefore the symbol of the iconic maple leaf inside a circle was a must. The four roundels surrounding the crest were from the plane he flew in the war, a B24 Liberator. As a submarine hunter, he flew escort for convoys bound for Britain. After the war he worked for Trans Canada Airlines which is now known as Air Canada flying Vicounts and Vanguards through DC8’s, L-1011’s and finally 747 commercial jets in his 35 years of service. Circumstances only allowed him to get to grade 7, but he was intelligent, well respected and experienced an impressive career.
Both Wynn and Jim were avid Bridge players, meeting once a week at alternating homes of their bridge playing friends. Even after Jim died, Wynn continued to play. Her skills were highly honed so that when she moved into independent living and discovered there was a weekly bridge table in session, and after she realized they were less knowledgeable with the game rules and strategy, she shared her expertise and gained a lot of respect from the amateur players. To commemorate Bridge, I hooked the suits in four quadrants, making up one playing card to represent their years of dedication to the game.
The rug had been in storage when Wynn moved into nursing care. I was worried something would happen to it so Gregg retrieved it and guarded it with his life on the trip home. This rug is one of a kind in the entire world....imagine that! Designed and hooked with love and full of priceless sentimental value.
This rug was made long before the idea of opening a shop was a glint in my eye so I didn’t have the wool choices I do today. After my first rug was on our bedroom floor, I’d started gathering wool like a crazed addict. This piece was made using all recycled wool from Frenchie’s, a few plaids here and there but mostly solids. This was back in the day when you could go in the door and come out with several garbage bags of wool clothing which they cut with scissors and charged you half price if you told them it was for crafts. Those days were over once they realized how much money they were losing with the growing number of rug hookers in the area all sweeping the store for wool, so I gathered my stash back in the glory days and built up a rather large collection of a myriad of colours, enough that I was able to do a bit of shading here and there making some of the backgrounds to the motifs interesting with stripes of companionable colours.
The rug will hang in the shop for a while to share with visitors. It’s so rich on the wall and I am so very proud of my meager beginnings and the gift I offered my in-laws. A story rug, a small monument of their existence, a constant reminder they lived and were loved. Every time I walk by the rug I smile.....
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