That Little Old Red Shawl

I can’t believe I forgot to write about this on the previous post. There’s a song that my grandpa on my mother’s side would sing to us about a “little old red shawl my mother wore.” I always loved it when he sang the song for us because at the end, he would sing, “my mother wore” in this forlorn, high pitched voice that would absolutely crack me up to hear coming out of my grandpa. I don’t get to see him very often since we live far away from each other, but I always enjoy our visits. My grandpa has a great sense of humor.

As an example, after my sister got married, he called me one day and said that now that she was married, he didn’t have to worry about her anymore, he had to worry about me. I tried to evade him by saying he actually needed to worry about my cousin Brian, who was older than me and naturally the next in line. He said, “No. I don’t have to worry about Brian.” I love my grandpa and the way he teases. He actually called me every month or two after that to see how I was doing in the dating scene.

Anyways, the whole time I was making that red scarf (even though it isn’t a shawl), that little song was in my head, and it was fun to have something remind me of Grandpa. These are the only words I can remember to the song, and even they might be wrong:

That little old red shawl, oh that little old red shawl

That little old red shawl my mother wore

It was tattered, it was torn, it showed signs of being worn

That little old red shawl my mother wore

. . . my mother wore