What Happens To Your Stash When You Die

A few weeks ago a knitting buddy passed away. She hadn't been well, but I hadn't realized she had taken a turn for the worse. Then, just this past weekend, a bunch of us were alerted that her stash was going to be dismantled.

Cathy had been quite thorough with her documentation of her stash on ravelry. I decided that the best way to remember her would be to knit a pair of socks that she had planned to make, but didn't get to. Only a few queued sock patterns had yarn ideas assigned to them. Cathy and I had bonded over color work socks, so when I saw that the Swedish Fish pattern was one with an assigned yarn, I made it my mission to find the skein of Baltic and Warm Maize in Tosh sock in her enormous stash. (She had over 1700 entries, not just skeins, on ravelry) Luckily I had some help and eventually was able to find each skein. I got a little teary when I saw that the skein of Baltic had already been wound.

I pulled out some other skeins while I was there. Most notably a skein of Baah La Jolla in Burmese Ruby. Cathy had the best taste in reds.

I also left with a sweater quantity of Brooklyn Tweed's Loft in Meteorite and Artifact to make another Pente. Cathy was one of the group of us who made a Pente together. She was the one who coined the term "stockinette hell."

Farewell Cathy. I hope that you have already found the yarn shop on the other side. I'm sure you will find the best red over there too.

Tribute To My Opa

Last week my Opa passed away. He was surrounded by loved ones, including my Oma. I thought I'd share a few things about him. 

My Opa, Reinhard, was born in the Westfalia region of Prussia, before Prussia became Germany. His father worked in a coal mine boiler room. His mother was a seamstress and tailor.

 My Opa, with his parents and older sister, Ruth.

He studied to become a mechanic and welder. But a few weeks before he was able to take his final test for his degree, his visa came through to leave Germany. The choice was to either stay in a war-torn post WWII Germany, or go to a new land. He chose to travel to Canada while he had the chance. He met my Oma on the boat. He played his lute and was popular with the ladies. My Oma was seasick the whole time.

His nephew learned his lifelong love of planes from my Opa. As a 5-year-old in Germany, Peter, the nephew had hammered two pieces of wood together in a cross arrangement and wiggled the two pieces around pretending it was a plane. Opa explained to him how a plane really worked. (The nephew is not pictured below).

My Opa is in the cockpit, my Mum is to the right. 

My Opa passed down the art of taking a proper roadtrip. The goal of the trip wasn't to get to a place as fast as possible. He encouraged taking the backroads. And it was just fine to stop for a second breakfast.

 Opa taking a "second breakfast" in the Mojave.

We had many lovely years with him. Towards the end of his life, he did have Alzheimers. My Oma served him faithfully to the end. Although he didn't talk for the last few years of his life, we knew he understood things just fine when we visited. He would always tear up and we'd get his classic bear hug.

My Opa and his sister Ruth

The last time I saw my Opa, I was able to show him the majority of the knits for The Book. He looked and touched every one of them. I was able to let him know that he was one of the reasons this book could even happen. And I also let him know that his compass and one of his coins from his coin collection would be appearing as props with one of the knits. That night I received the strongest hug I had ever gotten from him, despite his growing weakness. There isn't a better goodbye that could be had.

Tribute To My Granddad

A little over a week ago my grandfather passed away. I'd wanted to write some sort of tribute, but I get teary every time I try, so I think I'll just share some photos.
This image is of my grandparents at the Waldorf Astoria (to the best of everyone's knowledge). The date on the back says June 10th, 1952. The story goes that my grandfather had proposed to my grandmother in England. She said no, moved to America and ended up working in the Empire State Building. At some point he came after her. It should be noted that my grandmother was a bit of a spitfire. She took up electric guitar in her later years.

He served England during WWII and worked on the front line laying down wire for communications. It's said that he was witness to the fasted U-turn in history when he and his team realized they were driving towards enemy lines.

My granddad is on the right

My grandfather was an entrepreneur after the war and brought seat belts to New Zealand. My father mentioned that he was one of the first kids in New Zealand to wear a seatbelt. I did a wee bit of research and found that he also was granted a patent on belt couplings. Fancy that.