When you live in a small town,
you become resourceful.
Instead of buying things,
you’re more apt to make them.
And when you live in a place
where winter temperatures
can dip down to -40,
you find things to do indoors.
Many women know how to knit
sweaters, socks, mittens, and toques…
And most men can do woodworking –
making their own furniture or building their own home.
It sounds pretty old school, but it’s true.
My parents are makers.
My grandparents were too.
I grew up with a dad
who could fix our car,
the motor on our boat,
and anything his friends brought back to the house.
He is a mechanic.
My dad is also a carpenter.
He built our cabin. He built our home.
He can build furniture, just like his dad did.
My Grandpa Johnson
had a woodworking shop out in his garage.
He died when I was quite little,
but I can still remember that distinct smell
of freshly cut wood still lingering in his shop.
Grandma Beatrice was crafty too.
She could crochet.
Her intricate doilies were draped
on the back of plush couches and chairs,
on end tables and dressers.
My mom, she can make anything.
She sews beautiful quilts.
The smaller the pieces
or the more challenging they seem,
the more likely she will try it.
Our children’s beds are covered
in one of Grammy’s special quilts.
Made with love,
they each have two or three of them.
My mom can also knit.
It’s nothing to see her sitting and watching TV,
knitting away without even looking at her hands.
A little baby sweater starting to take shape
or a pair of socks for a quick Christmas gift.
Mom also bakes the best pies from scratch,
and is known for her homemade buns.
Grandma Lainie was a maker too.
She used to knit.
My dresser drawer is full
of wool socks that she made me.
Gram also enjoyed baking.
Mom loved her fudge.
Grandpa Pud was the ultimate maker.
Living out in the wilderness,
he could MacGyver anything.
If he needed a small part for his four-wheeler
he would just make one
until he could get one in town.
So it makes sense why I make things too.
I sew, I bake, I love making stuff.
I don’t feel like myself,
unless I’ve made something lately.
I come from a family of makers.
And I’m so thankful that I do.