March 8, 2007
Your Argosy blanket is one of your finest moments. I never would have thought to turn that scarf pattern into a blanket. But then, that’s why we love you: you never fail to ask the question, “Could this be a blanket?” And the answer is always “Yes. Yes it could.”
I was thinking about your fresh ‘n’ shiny new blanket last night, when I was in David’s room hanging out while he was getting ready for bed. Bedtime at our house has a long-standing set of rituals.
I still have a patented series of four songs which, when sung in the correct order, will without fail make Clif fall asleep: “America the Beautiful,” “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” (which isn’t really my kind of song, but I started singing it after watching an episode of the Ken Burns Civil War series), “Blue-Tailed Fly,” and the killer, “Mr. Tambourine Man.” The trick with hypnotizing your children is to start by singing at a chipper pace, then slowing down to the point that “Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me” takes about 30 seconds.
I’m kind of droopy right this minute just thinking about it.
But the blanket–David had a handknit blanket given to him by one of his grandmother May’s dear friends. From Day 6, I’m guessing, this blanket was with him every night for almost a decade.
Last night I found the blanket under his bed. It had long ago ceased looking like a blanket, but he always refused to let me untangle it. Well, last night, my 11 year old said I could take it apart.
This is what I found:
Where did it go? The blanket has vanished! The only parts left are the strips of cables. Did he eat it during the night?
A blanket is a form of immortality, true. Except when it is loved to pieces.
P.S. The other day, a 1930 Ford Model A showed up in the driveway, containing Neighbor Judy and her husband Kelly. Their son Andrew provided emergency backup. This was the maiden voyage of the car Kelly took custody of from his uncle. This was its first trip, exactly one and a half blocks, in 30 years.
I’m guessing it really does take a transplant surgeon to make a car like this run again. So odd to see this thing coming up the driveway!
P.S.S. Knitting continues to inspire filmmakers. A new competition features a film with some fine knitting in it. Go here, then navigate through until you see the film titled “Yarn . . . Good Light Is Essential” by Reka Gacs of the Royal College of Art.