Josefina Davalos, my grandmother

My Grandmother Josefina and I in our backyard, on Lansdale Avenue.

It was my grandmother, Josefina, that taught me how to knit. I was a little girl. I would lie on her big green couch, and get so frustrated because I couldn't manipulate the "sticks" like I wanted to. "Patience mi hija, patience" she would tell me. 

A Young Josefina Davalos, with three of nine her children

My grandmother was such a beautiful, generous and kind woman. And it was my grandmother, who taught me how to knit. I really didn't appreciate that skill when I was younger.  I always knitted, but I would pick up my knitting needles every now and then, starting and stopping projects. But now, I can't seem to put them down!

My Grandparents on their "pier boat" in Sausalito. 

Not only did my grandmother influence me on my craft, but also my lifestyle, without even knowing it. This photo was taken on their houseboat in Sausalito. Look closely, that's an empty Tiburon in the background! Look at how happy they look! I just love this photo. 

When I first started Josefina Fine Knits, I sent a questionnaire around to all my relatives asking them to tell me their stories of our Grandmother, Sister, Aunt, Cousin. They all shared their personal story with me. It was exciting to see how much of an effect this one woman had on their lives.

For example, my cousin Henry was at my grandmothers house, outside with her while she working in her garden. "Abuelita, I'm hungry. Please make me a sandwich," he said. "In a moment, hijo," "Abuelita, but I'm hungry now. So hungry that I could eat this worm." "In a moment." Just then, he chomped down on that worm, and swallowed. My poor grandmother went running into the house, screaming that she'll make him lunch right away! Henry...he's such a prankster!

But in reading thru the family questionnaires I received, there was a common theme...her cooking. The smells that floated from her kitchen were mouthwatering. And her tortillas, oh how wonderful they were. We'd all wait in her kitchen, with the butter ready, for her tortilla to come off comal steaming hot. They'd melt in your mouth. 

My grandmother, with one of her many crochet quilts. 

But for me, my memories are of her teaching me how to knit, lying on her big green couch in the living room, with her tv tuned to Channel 2 with Pat McCormick' s Dialing for Dollars show on. 

As with anything, learning something new is difficult. And for a  9 year old, it's really hard! I'd be red faced, breathing hard, with a jumbled, tight knot on the end of my knitting needles. And my grandmother would quietly say "patience, mi hija, patience."

It was her first time in the snow!

Thank you, Grandma, for teaching me patience, for teaching me how to keep a house filled with wonderful smells, and for teaching me how to appreciate life by enjoying each day.