Første garnminne / First memory of yarn

På whip up.net er det i dag en post om bamser. Det minte meg på at jeg for noen uker siden stilte jeg meg selv spørsmålet: Hva er mitt første minne om garn? Altså mitt første bevisste minne om garn. Det øyeblikket da jeg forsto at det er noe i verden som heter garn, og at det kan brukes til forskjellige ting. Svaret dukket opp i hodet mitt umiddelbart.

Da jeg ble født, fikk jeg en bamse av min bestemor. Jeg var svært glad i bamsen min, og den fulgte meg i tykt og tynt. Den var fylt med sagmugg, og etter hvert ble den ganske slitt. Jeg kan huske at moren min stadig måtte sy igjen hull, fordi små stier av sagmugg fulgte meg der jeg gikk. Dukker likte jeg ikke. Jeg syns de var harde og kalde, i motsetning til bamsen min som var varm og myk. Dukkene hadde imidlertid en ting jeg likte: Langt og skinnende hår. Bamsen min på den annen side, var sørgelig skallet, noe jeg syns var fryktelig trist. Moren min har fortalt at da jeg var ca. 4 år gammel, krevde jeg at hun skulle gjøre noe med dette problemet. Jeg husker jeg så våknet en morgen, til en bamse som hadde fått langt, hvitt ullhår. Og jeg husker jeg var fullstendig og komplett lykkelig. Jeg børstet og børstet ullhåret, satte bånd i det, og undersøkte det i detalj. Jeg husker ikke nøyaktig hva jeg tenkte, men jeg husker følelsen av å synes det var fantastisk at disse ulltrådene fantes, og at de nå var blitt til min bamses vakre hår. Jeg var overbevist om at ingen annen bamse i hele verden hadde så fint hår, og at jeg nå hadde verdens aller, aller beste bamse.



At Whip up.net there’s a post about teddy bears today. That reminded me of something I was thinking about a few weeks ago. I had asked myself: What is my first memory of yarn? The first time I really discovered the fact that yarn exists, and that it’s something you can use for different purposes.

When I was born, my grandmother gave me a teddy bear. I really loved my bear, and I carried it with me all the time. It was filled with sawdust, and after some time it got a lot of holes. I can remember that my mother regularly had to sew those holes, because a small trail of sawdust followed me wherever I went. I also had dolls, but I didn’t like them. I thought they were hard and cold, in contrast to my bear that was soft and warm. But the dolls had one thing I liked: Long and shiny hair. My bear was shockingly bald, and I thought this was a real problem. My mother has told me that when I was about four years old, I commanded that she should do something about this bald-bear-problem. I remember I woke up one morning, to discover that my beloved bald bear suddenly had got long white hair made of wool. I remember it made totally and completely happy. I combed and combed the hair, and I put a ribbon in it, and looked at it in detail. I can’t remember exactly what I thought, but I remember feeling that it was just wonderful that these threads of wool existed, and that they now had become my bear’s beautiful long hair. I was convinced I had the only bear in the whole wide world with such beautiful hair, and that it made him the best bear in the entire world.