Knitting for Peace

Last week we started our winter quarter, even though it felt more like spring. Since I've been back from Minnesota, the temperatures have been in the 70s, even reaching 80 last weekend. I'm taking three classes this quarter: Women in Legislatures, US in Comparative Perspective, and Stats. My TA class is Intro to US Government, and I'm TAing for one of my favorite professors, MW. So far students have learned the constitutional foundations of our government and an overview of parliamentary systems. This is so that students can better understand the advantages and disadvantages of our form of government.

I've found some creative outlets to relieve the stresses and pressures of graduate school. Of course, I've been baking a lot (today I made Apple Spice Cupcakes for my class) and I've been knitting and crocheting. I have recently completed a purse, and I have started to crochet squares that will be assembled into another purse. I guess I'm on a handbag kick at the moment.

A few weeks ago, I purchased a book called Knitting for Peace: Make the World a Better Place One Stitch at a Time. It is this fabulous book about knitting for charities and different causes both in the United States and abroad. Some of the causes include knitting for soldiers, cancer patients, children, and animal shelters. This book could not have come to me at a better time. I was looking for some sort of way to contribute to a cause and make a difference, no matter how seemingly small. Grad school is time consuming, and I needed some sort of outlet to remind myself that I am more than an academic-in-training. This book has sparked an interest in 'craftivism,' a form of political and social activism that centers around crafts.

Anyway, I crocheted a comfort shawl for Sheila's Shawls, a program of the Silent Witness National Initiative. Silent Witness is based in Minneapolis and this organization works to raise awareness of and reduce domestic violence. Comfort shawls are distributed to women who have survived domestic violence as well as women who are the family and friends of those who have survived domestic violence.

This is good night and not good bye

I don't want to put a damper on the New Year, but I must dedicate this blog entry to my maternal grandpa, who passed away on January 3rd. I made an unplanned trip back to Minnesota on the 30th, the day after my grandpa had a stroke. After missing a connection in Phoenix, I finally arrived in Minneapolis that Sunday evening. It was a stressful trip, and I constantly called my dad to make sure that Grandpa would be okay until I made it home. My parents picked me up from the airport and immediately took me to the hospital. After a brief visit, we went home to Rochester.

My parents and I returned to Red Wing the next day. While my grandma, parents, aunts, and uncles were in meetings with social workers and hospice staff, I sat with my grandpa and talked to him. Though I hate hospitals (who doesn't?) and it was difficult to see my grandpa so frail and unresponsive, I behaved as though everything were normal. My grandma instructed me to just talk to Grandpa as if nothing were unusual. Now, clearly, my family underestimates my ability to talk for long periods of time. I talked to my grandpa for three hours, interrupted only with a few conversations with a couple of my cousins. Three hours? I was just getting started. In those three hours with my grandpa, I talked about school, TAing, my friends, Christmas in Oceanside, fish tacos, California burritos, and the rigors and stresses of graduate school. I told him that I tried to bring some warm sunny California weather with me to cold and snowy Minnesota. Although he couldn't respond, it comforts me to think that he was listening and hopefully knew it was me. (He was probably also thinking, damn, this girl can talk) After updating Grandpa on my life, I moved on discuss the presidential election and the upcoming Iowa caucuses. I discussed at length who was running and their strengths and weaknesses. I told him about the importance of Iowa, the seeming flaws in the nomination system, and why other states were moving their primaries/caucuses to earlier dates. After being sure that Grandpa was well versed on our political system, I decided to read him the newspaper (even the sports section).

My aunt Kathy and I spent New Year's Eve with Grandpa. We counted down to midnight and rang in the New Year with some non alcoholic sparkling grape juice. It was memorable, sad, and special all at the same time. My grandpa passed away on January 3rd. Perhaps I made the Iowa caucuses sound like so much fun that Grandpa felt that he absolutely had to be there to witness the media circus and see what all the fuss was about.

I am back in California now, and my friends and professors have been sympathetic to the loss. Of course it is sad that my grandpa is gone, but I know that I have been extremely fortunate. If this sounds strange and callous, I should remind you that I am 27 and this is my first grandparent to pass away. I probably don't need to point out that I am a rarity; at 27, I had four living grandparents. Like, truly living. Usually, people are in shock when I point this out to them. And so I feel blessed, blessed that my grandpa (and all my grandparents) was there for me both as a child and as a young adult. My grandparents are still the spunky people that I remember as a child.

My grandpa had 16 grandchildren and 6 great grandchildren. He went to several graduations and weddings. There were so many family members filing in and out of the hospital to keep vigil and visit Grandpa. I got to ring in 2008 with him. He must know that he was loved by so many people, and that has to be a great way to leave this earth. And so, I don't really think that Grandpa truly died. Now, hear me out; this isn't crazy talk. I think that Grandpa will live on in ourselves and our memories. We will bring him to life when we share wonderful stories about him. We will tell our children about the grandpa that played baseball with us in the backyard. Somehow, we will find a way to bring his active and energetic nature to life. We will remember all the games of Hide and Seek and Hide the Thimble that we played at Grandma and Grandpa's. We will recall Christmases that we obnoxiously sang Christmas carols by the fireplace. We will fondly remember all the tree forts we built in the backyard. We will remember the grandpa with the great big smile and the twinkle in his eye. I am positive that my cousins and I were a loud and rowdy bunch of kids (still are), and I think Grandpa thrived on this energy. He never told us to keep it down, and he never stopped smiling. Every Christmas, when I display his handcrafted nativity set, I will remember his life and not his death.
Maybe Grandpa can find a way to communicate with us now that he is on the "other side" or whatever it might be called. If so, I'll try to listen, as long as he doesn't startle me by like jumping out from behind any bushes. He's welcome to stop by any time. There's a bottle of Bailey's on the kitchen counter. And so, like the campfire song my friends and I used to sing at Girl Scout Camp, I know that this is good night and not good bye.