| I grew up in a small town in Indiana where entire | | | | as my grandmother had done with her grandfather on |
| families, aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents, lived | | | | that very same porch. And when it was too cold to sit |
| within blocks of one another or sometimes, as was the | | | | outside, we wiled away the hours playing cards and |
| case in my family, within houses. It was a close knit | | | | doing crafts. It was at my grandmother's side that I |
| community where the neighbors enjoyed telling stories | | | | learned the joy of macramé. |
| of your parents and grandparents exploits as young | | | | I didn't know at the time where macramé originated |
| people and every house, no matter who lived there, | | | | nor that it had been around since the 13th century. It |
| was a safe place. | | | | didn't matter whether it was born at the hands of |
| My grandmother, a teacher, lived just two houses | | | | bored sailors occupying their time on long journeys or, |
| away so I spent almost as much time with her as I did | | | | as might be the case, Arabian weavers creating |
| my parents. Together when it rained, we sat on the | | | | ornamental veils. To me, it was yet one more example |
| front porch listening to the pitter patter of raindrops just | | | | of my grandmother's many and surprising talents. |