I used to think only grandmothers knit and until I realized I AM a grandmother. Then I met all of the wonderful young women who have taken the time to teach me, as I struggled through the intricate instructions and skills required to be fully proficient. I even bought a book called "You're Never Too Old To Knit!" Hmmmm....
I started trying to teach myself when was still working and seeking a way to completely relax during the evenings. However, it really began long ago, when I was a little girl. I would watch my Nana knitting, first while she watched her afternoon "stories" and then again after dinner as she sat in her rocking chair on the porch at her cottage, with a cup of tea at her side. I can still hear the waves lapping at the shore and the clicking of with her needles.
With 5 married children to visit, it seemed as if Nana and Pop were on a rotation. On Sunday after church, it it was our lucky week, the Ford sedan pulled up and my favorite grandparents would spend the afternoon with us. While we waited for the Sunday roast to finish, the knitting needles began to click. It was part of the sound of family.
I loved to watch as the garment took shape and wonder who the lucky recipient was going to be when the mysterious object was finished. I watched, fascinated, but was too busy being a little Tom-boy to stop and learn to knit. The lake called and I was off to play in the waves.
If it looked delicate and was knit in a soft pastel green or yellow, it was the first clue that another baby was on the way to someone in our family. It was long before the days of ultrasound that ruined the long awaited surprise. Nothing was knit in pink or blue, which was too risky, until after the baby was born. However, every new grandchild and great-grandchild wore Nana's creations and it was a love filled moment at the baby shower when her gift was open. I can still remember seeing those tiny booties and soft little sweaters. They became treasured heirlooms.
I still remember when it was my turn to receive a beautiful dark green pair of mittens with red trim. I felt so special, considering she had 17 grandchildren to knit for. I loved those mittens so much!
Long ago, in 1973 when I found I was expecting Cat, I found a yarn shop and recruited the elderly ladies to teach me to make booties. It didn't come easy,but she wore those little white booties, filled with her mother's love. Of course, she also wore Nana's knits and her other great grandmother's booties.
On her Baptism day, she wore a creme colored handknit sweater that had been knit by a long deceased aunt. That sweater has been worn by every baby in our family since 1912 on Baptism day, asit was made to match the beautiful long gown that every baby wore.
Nana used to say, "New baby....new baby clothes." She told me stories about how as she learned that each of her babies was on it's way, she would begin to knit. She would spend 9 months creating for the new baby. She would sew and make her own diapers and blankets, knit every sweater and bootie until there was a wardrobe waiting for the new little one.
She thought every baby deserved soft, special things made just to celebrate the new life.
My aunts all learned from Nana and through the years turned out some masterpieces. My own 5 chilren still hang the pretty red and green Christmas stockings that Aunt Mona knit for them. They became a tradition and just another reminder of family.
After I spent years doing cross stitch, quilting and scrapbooking, I still felt the tradition of knitting calling to me. Crafts and skills passed down from woman to woman just seemed important. My mother had taught me to embroider, my friend Carol taught me to quilt and my daughter taught me to scrapbook.
Now I was faced with a disability that made all of those things difficult. I loved documenting family history in my scrapbooks, but it was becoming harder and harder for me to spend any amount of time sitting in a hard chair. My eyes tired easily when I tried to embroider and making quilts, again required sitting at the sewing machine.
I was grieving hard and really needed peace and solitude. Yes, I would try to knit again. I began by visiting the yarn stores and got lost in the world of color and texture. If it wasn't soft, I didn't like it. The softer it was, the more I had to own it. I needed softness in my life.
The first few endeavors produced a scarf for a number of family members. It began to get easier, although it made my arms and hands ache. I began to prop my arms with pillows. It was time to challenge my brain. I missed working so much that my mind either felt dead or on the few days it was alive, it was filled with pain to match my heart. Maybe concentration would help chase away the painful thoughts.
I took the first class and I was on my way to an addition. It was certainly harmless and a bit like yoga. No room for painful thoughts when you are counting and calculating, reading and trying to understand what you read.
The family began to joke about the stash of yarn accumulating, the unfinished projects in baskets, but I didn't mind. It was better to hear the laughter, than to experience the silence. I didn't knit for a product. I knit for peace.
One of my fondest memories, is the day that Karen danced around the living room, laughing and shouting because SHE got the first finished pair of socks. She had gone to the yarn shop and picked the yarn and was so touched that I made them for HER. I still can't bear to part with those socks. As I reach into my knitting basket, I often stop to fondle them and remember.
I am now finishing sweaters (Cat is wearing some love to keep the damp cold away in London), Joe has a new vest waiting for winter and Alexis is sporting my first hat. Oh sure, there are plenty of Unfinished Objects.....I am the Queen of UFO's. It's okay....I enjoy the process and the peace it brings as I quietly knit the blues.
When my arms and hands ache too badly to knit, I just read and learn a little more. Maybe someday they won't hurt and I can finish everything I have started. Doubt it, but it's all good.
