It's a knitting joke.

Some guests of a party that my Parents hosted moved up to the Master Bedroom of our split-level home to admire my Mom's current knitting project.

The women shared a big laugh as they saw the knitted piece—likely a finished, but unblocked, back. They all stood alongside the bed, draped in its flesh-colored, chenille bedspread.

Suburban Chicago, December 25, 1961. My Mom, on the far right, holds the knitted piece. Someone—likely my Dad, the photographer—must have cracked a sharp joke.