Wonderful World of Hooking

Isn't this a beautiful hooked rug! We had dinner last evening with a classmate of Pauline's and we were having great conversation, when out of Bobbie's mouth, came the words I didn't expect to hear.

"I'm a Hooker" she said impishly. I blinked twice and asked "You mean rug hooking?" And that was it, the rest of the dinner conversation was about rug hooking and the story behind Bobbie's first pattern. It was exactly as Deanne Fitzpatrick idea of Hook Me A Story. This rug pattern represents a wonderful story of memories of laughter in the kitchen late at night between her mother and grandmother.

I was telling Bobbie of my plans to get a wool cutter and projects I was planning, when she piped up "It isn't a bit early for that; you're still working on kits and yarn." Well, we had such a good laugh over my exuburance; one of those laughs that make you feel so good. Exactly, like the laughs shared between the two women in a kitchen many years ago in the Bay of Islands.

Here is Bobbie's description:

Laughter between Two:

My mother once gave me a book mark worked in needlepoint. It read "Laughter between two is a greater sign of love than any other." The story depicted in this, my first hooked mat, is about just that - shared time, love, a sense of communion and the healing, regeneration of laughter.

This is my memory of these two women I love dearly - that they could laugh at nothing, especially during hard times when it is difficult to find anything to laugh about. My Mom, lived most of her married life with her mother-in law. Nan had her kitchen and Mom had her kitchen at the other end of the house, but the rest of the house was communal space. There were 8 children and for a while other uncles and aunts living there. Life was very, very difficult with worries and troubles galore and few pleasures.

The kitchen scene with Mom at the stove really speaks to the fact that even when she was having fun, Mom was getting things done because "the things needing to be done" were endless. Nan in her rocking chair evokes for me a sense of warmth, comfort and soothing. She would give us all a turn getting rocked as she sang old songs like "Show me the way to go home" and "Far Away Places".

After the homework was done, the children were put to bed, the oats put to soak for morning porridge, and Nan having finished her Rosary, Mom and Nan would spend time together in Nan's kitchen. When they were lonesome, they shared stories about their families and home communities.(Nan was from Port Aux Port and Mom from Bonavista Bay.) They also shared their worries, their dreams and were simply there for each other. It was common for them to do some little thing for each other - that cup of tea served, maybe with a piece of toast with cheese or jam was true communion. They were each other's best friends, loyal supporters and they shared the most ridiculous sense of humour that had them laughing at very little and it gave them the courage to face another day.

Just as the stove warmed the house, these two women brought warmth and kindness to each other, to our family and all sorts of other folks.