My father died when I was 16 requiring my small family to split up and scatter for a variety of reasons. I left my my home town the following year and never looked back. I always regretted not having a reference point to my growing up years. Others, who stayed behind, watched our classmates and cousins grow up; they had a life consistency I yearned for. I know, I know, it’s not always a bed of roses to stay connected to your early years. Lacking that consistency in my own life, I crave biographies and life retrospective movies – A League of Their Own, Mr. Holland’s Opus and the Dutch movie, Antonia’s Line.
Recently though, I realized I had enough time in my 22 years in Canada to start having a past. When I’m at meetings I see people I’ve worked with for 20 years and think about how we have history together. It’s nice.
This week I was reconnected to a link from my earlier years. One of my voice mail messages at work, upon returning from vacation, was from a co-worker from when I graduated from school in Nebraska. Funny thing is that I dreamt about her recently, so now I’m experiencing a dream come true. What a nice change from the year of M-I-L’s death, my knee surgery, the wedding issue and a 15 yr old’s nipple piercing. Thanks, Jackie, for reappearing into my life.
You know I had to fit knitting content in here somehow. Here I am, in about 1980 (half my life ago!) when I worked with Jackie, in the first sweater I ever knit. I’ll bet that sweater, made from unbiodegradeable Wintuk Sayelle, is buried in some landfill somewhere.
Life's a Stitch 
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