A Treasure
07/16/09
I’m restoring an afghan crocheted for me seventy-two years ago by my grandmother. As I mend the squares, which were frayed and frazzled because in my naiveté I washed it, I keep thinking of grandma who made it for me and my mother, who over the years repaired it for me. There is black thread, brown thread, red thread, fuzzy yarn, whole grey sections, and on and on. Poor mother, she spent lots of time mending this afghan because of my folly.
Smiling to myself, I reminisced about the reason for the afghan. In 1937 I was a senior in a small high school in a little farm town with thoughts of going to college. But this was uncharted territory. I had only very vague knowledge of what schools were available. No matter if no one else in my class thought about it, but I did.
Dad had been to high school and a so-called business school in the little southern town of Flora, Illinois. Mother supported education vicariously as she always told us her father wouldn’t permit her to go to the University of Chicago, which had open enrollment in her time. Neither of them knew anything about colleges anyplace. Two of her brothers had never gone to high-school and the third, Leo, attended Bryant and Stratton business school. My personal knowledge of available colleges was limited mostly to the University of Illinois in Champaign, a few hundred miles away, and a few other private colleges.
I was told some of my teachers had gone to teacher’s college for only two years and the one who taught typing and shorthand had gone to a business school. Neither appealed to me. The exception was my French teacher who had studied at the Sorbonne in Paris. But that was out of the question. I remember my Latin and French teacher did tell me about her college, a small catholic one. That at least gave me an idea.
However, there were no counselors who could help me out. Nobody to advise me about anything. The University of Illinois really unnerved me because of its size. The thought of sororities and not being asked to join petrified me. Northwestern in Evanston cost too much money. So, in the end, I chose a security blanket, the only type of college I had heard about, a catholic college for girls in Dubuque, Iowa and I have never regretted it.
Since no one in the family had been to college and my teachers didn’t offer any assistance, I was on my own. There were no entrance exams, no essays to write. Just arrangements to make, and Mother helped with those. I ended up in a private room because I didn’t know anyone to room with. And to prepare the first one in her family to go to college Mother did what she knew best. She bought me an entirely new wardrobe and a fur coat, and Grandma contributed also by crocheting me this beautiful afghan. To my surprise, the special wardrobe was to no avail - we wore uniforms! Suffice it to say, even though the country was still in the throes of the deep depression, in the fall of 1937, Mary was probably the only freshman who entered college with a fur coat and a treasured afghan made by her grandmother.
Smiling to myself, I reminisced about the reason for the afghan. In 1937 I was a senior in a small high school in a little farm town with thoughts of going to college. But this was uncharted territory. I had only very vague knowledge of what schools were available. No matter if no one else in my class thought about it, but I did.
Dad had been to high school and a so-called business school in the little southern town of Flora, Illinois. Mother supported education vicariously as she always told us her father wouldn’t permit her to go to the University of Chicago, which had open enrollment in her time. Neither of them knew anything about colleges anyplace. Two of her brothers had never gone to high-school and the third, Leo, attended Bryant and Stratton business school. My personal knowledge of available colleges was limited mostly to the University of Illinois in Champaign, a few hundred miles away, and a few other private colleges.
I was told some of my teachers had gone to teacher’s college for only two years and the one who taught typing and shorthand had gone to a business school. Neither appealed to me. The exception was my French teacher who had studied at the Sorbonne in Paris. But that was out of the question. I remember my Latin and French teacher did tell me about her college, a small catholic one. That at least gave me an idea.
However, there were no counselors who could help me out. Nobody to advise me about anything. The University of Illinois really unnerved me because of its size. The thought of sororities and not being asked to join petrified me. Northwestern in Evanston cost too much money. So, in the end, I chose a security blanket, the only type of college I had heard about, a catholic college for girls in Dubuque, Iowa and I have never regretted it.
Since no one in the family had been to college and my teachers didn’t offer any assistance, I was on my own. There were no entrance exams, no essays to write. Just arrangements to make, and Mother helped with those. I ended up in a private room because I didn’t know anyone to room with. And to prepare the first one in her family to go to college Mother did what she knew best. She bought me an entirely new wardrobe and a fur coat, and Grandma contributed also by crocheting me this beautiful afghan. To my surprise, the special wardrobe was to no avail - we wore uniforms! Suffice it to say, even though the country was still in the throes of the deep depression, in the fall of 1937, Mary was probably the only freshman who entered college with a fur coat and a treasured afghan made by her grandmother.