In the World of Crochet

Is there anything more exciting and happy in life than your child’s wedding? So many of us have been through this joyful—though often nerve-racking—event that’s filled with detail after detail. Every wedding has a common checklist: formal wear, who’s who in the wedding party, wedding bands, the venue, food and music, the officiant, something blue—you know the fine points. But as a Jewish mother, I had one more huge feature that’s very special and inherent to our weddings: the chuppah (wedding canopy). “Chuppah” is the Hebrew and Yiddish word for “roof or covering.” (It’s pronounced with a gutteral “ch,” as if you’re clearing your throat.) The chuppah symbolizes the new home to which the bridegroom will take his bride. The tradition of marrying under a chuppah has its roots in biblical Jewish life. It can be as simple as a tallis (prayer shawl) held over the couple’s heads or an ornate, overhead platform heavily embellished with flowers and greenery. Chuppahs have been made from beautifully draped fabrics of every color and size. They may have an inscription woven in the fabric or hand-painted motifs; the appearance is as personal as the bride’s choice of gown. When my daughter Ilene became engaged, I thought, “Will she want a chuppah?” My daughter is Jewish, and her thenfiancé is not. But, yes, there was to be a chuppah, and so the process of making it began. Of course, it would be crocheted—was there any doubt? The logistics of making and setting up a chuppah were interesting; the bride lived in Ohio, I lived in New York and the wedding was in New Jersey. The catering hall and florist were completely unfamiliar with chuppahs so there was no help there. And the framework that supported the canopy had to be taller than the 6-foot-5 groom! We decided on a simple piece resembling a square bed skirt—four panels joined together, then sewn to a piece of fabric. The colors would match the wedding party: bands of palest silver, a deeper platinum and teal blue. Finding one brand and model of yarn in these colors was not easy, but Katia Sevilla was the perfect choice. It’s a shimmery, sport-weight ribbon yarn, and I swatched it up in Paris stitches. Voilà! We had the basis for the canopy. The framework was a challenge but we met it! My husband and I purchased piping and connecting pieces to create a 70-inch-square, 7-foot-tall open structure. Now the real fun (and I don’t mean that facetiously) began. I spent my commute on New York subways happily crocheting the 70-inch-wide by 7-inch-long panels. The rhythmic train ride was a perfect setting in which to work; balls of yarn worked up into shining rows. Whoever sat next to me could not resist asking what I was making as this ribbon yarn is too unique to ignore. My explanation of the project was met with delight. Within a few weeks, I had the beautiful panels done. Yards and yards of slippery, silver organza slid across my dining room table as I tamed it into panels sewn together to form the “roof” and to make sleeves for the upright poles. The four crocheted panels were hand-sewn together to form a giant, open square. With many, many pins to prevent these slick pieces from sliding out of shape and off the table, I pinned the organza to the panels. I machine-sewed the pieces together (no easy feat through crocheted

fabric), practically hand-rolling the wheel of my sewing machine through the entire process. But the results were worth the effort. The chuppah was truly a crowning piece under which my daughter and her husband were married.

That was in 2007. Fast forward to New Year’s Day 2017. The phone rings and it’s my son, Avery, calling to announce his engagement! YIPPEE! We are delighted! And the same question rolls through my head: “Will she want a chuppah?” because my son is Jewish and his then-fiancée is not. But when I explained the meaning of it to her, Christina wanted a chuppah. So the process began again in the summer. This was going to be another long distance project as the bride and groom live and would marry in Buffalo, New York, and I was still in New York City. I researched different stitch patterns and directed Christina to Ravelry, where she found good options. I swatched 8 samples from her choices in different colors and textures. At first, she wanted a metallic edge in gold or silver, and the main color didn’t necessarily have to be white. So packages of pink and white swatches, with and without fancy edgings, were dispatched for her consideration. She chose a virus pattern made from Red Heart Comfort Sport in crystal white, with no bling around the edge but just the right touch of glint throughout the piece. Now the real fun (and I do mean that facetiously) began. The virus pattern from which I adapted my design was a baby blanket-size square; we needed a rectangle large enough to cover a framework with an as-of-yet unknown size. It took a week of lots of ripping and restitching to get a mathematically correct sample that would progress to whatever finished size was needed. Finding the framework was a job for the bride and groom. Avery and Christina found a very practical solution: a barbeque gazebo with a removable top! With a curtain infused with lights hung as a back wall, it was not only the perfect setting for the ceremony, with the chuppah removed, it would transform into the photo booth. Now I had minimum dimensions for the finished piece: 90 inches wide by 60 inches long. It would become a lightweight queen-size comforter. The stitching began at home in September and continued through the winter in a rented beach house in South Carolina. I found a shop in our little beach town that creates custom embroidery. Thanks to the beautiful work by Donna Anderson, owner of Island Specialties of Pawleys Island, this centerpiece was the perfect finishing touch. I held my breath for four days as the chuppah shipped from South Carolina to Buffalo, and then waited for Christina’s reaction. She LOVED it! There was no better sight on that beautiful June evening than to watch my son and his wife tie the knot (with a

cord crocheted by me) under my chuppah.