I have a rather large collection of reference material that I consult on a regular basis. I find these to be an enormous help when I am teaching.
I was lucky enough to be around when Joan Moshimer started her "Rug Hookers New and Views" magazine and I have many of those as well as some of the first ones from Pearl McGown and almost a complete collection of Mildred Sprout's "Ruggers Roundtable" starting with 1953.
As always, when I start looking up something, I get distracted and start reading whatever page in the reference material that I have come to. Sooooo the other day as I was looking up something, I came across this little poem that I would like to share with you. There was no author mentioned, so I assume, as so many pieces of poetry, it is by "anon."
DAD'S OLD BREECHES
When Dad has worn his trousers out
They pass to brother John.
Then Mother trims them round about
And William puts them on.
When William's legs too long have grown
The trousers fail to hide 'em.
SoWalter claims them for his own
And stows himself inside 'em.
Next Sam's fat legs they close invest
And when they won't stretch tighter
They're turned and shortened, washed and pressed
And fixed on me - - the writer.
Ma works them into rugs and caps
When I have burst the stitches.
At doomsday we shall see (perhaps)
The last of Dad's old breeches.
Happy hooking, everyone!