thing 4: make something (i would wear)

i have never made anything. oh sure, i’ve made a mess, a friend, some bad decisions, a bed, a fire, a date, a killer apple pie, but i’ve never made anything i would wear. i don’t sew (anything other than a button), can’t use a glue gun to save my life, and seemingly don’t have that “craft” gene like the other women in my family. my grandmother was a phenomenal knitter. she could modify patterns or create new patterns based on what we liked, and every sweater she made -- from the watermelon poncho and matching purse from my childhood to the fisherman sweaters that surrounded me with love -- were works of art. my grandmother had the patience to teach her four granddaughters the basics of knitting, and each time we insisted on using new hanks of yarn, which had to have driven her mad. she proudly wore the chain link necklaces and belts we made -- and even wore them outside of the house, which, really, was love because she had to look ridiculous. i remember my grandmother spending afternoons outside, chatting with her friends, teaching the kids to knit, and all the while knitting at remarkable speeds. if i close my eyes, i can still hear the click/clacking of the metal needles touching each other in rhythmic patterns as stitches were made. how she could multi-task (although that word wasn’t used then) while creating works of art was always a mystery to me. there wasn’t a day i don’t recall her knitting until finally arthritis made her fingers gnarled, and she could no longer hold the needles. the fact she was not able to do what she loved, as well as what she did to show her love to her family, was heartbreaking.

unfortunately for me, i really didn’t pick up knitting despite my grandmother’s valiant efforts. i’ve always loved the idea of knitting, which i attribute to my grandmother and the things it represents – time spent with my grandmother, peaceful afternoons, and the “hand made with love by anne” tags she sewed into every sweater. my mother is also a fabulous knitter, but she doesn’t live near me, and i couldn’t torment her by having her teach me over weekends home or over the phone. left to my own devices, i found an incredible knitting store in my town and signed up for a beginner’s knitter class. the shop is in an old home downtown, is perfectly quaint, and has the feel of being in my grandmother’s house. the class was taught in what used to be a diningroom around a big, old country table with mismatching (yet matching) chairs. the teacher had an inordinate amount of patience and taught me all of the basics i needed to know. i left my half-day lesson armed with needles, yarn, and a hefty amount of optimism. i was surprised to see what came back to me after all those years, but still, nothing felt relaxed about the process. what had come so naturally for my grandmother was forced and an effort for me. i couldn’t watch tv or talk while knitting, and i needed to write down where i left off at every row. still, i was determined to make something i would wear, and even though it was a challenge, i somehow found it relaxing. the scarf pattern i chose -- the one when i showed my mom, elicited a one-word response of, “STOP” (literally in all caps because she thought it would be too monotonous and prone to me dropping stitches based on the pattern) -- said i only needed to master four knitting concepts, and it was supposed to take six hours. well, there were only four things to know, but you can triple the length of time it took for me to complete, and that’s not counting the multiple visits back to the knitting store to correct mistakes or to ask questions. (while knitting the first two rows, when i made a mistake, i would just rip out the stitches and start over. after completing 400 stitches though, i was no longer willing to scrap my time investment.)

my whimsical, ruffled scarf (the name of the pattern, not mine) is now complete. i was fairly certain that once it was done, i would tear it out and use the beautiful, organic, berry-dyed yarn for another project, but i actually surprised myself and like the scarf -- and i would even wear it . . . out in public, too. after lovingly knitting every single one of the 1600 hundred total stitches, i appreciate my grandmother’s sweaters even more. i still have two of her fisherman sweaters, which were made well over 20 years ago, and even though they have seen better days, the “hand made with love by anne” labels are still there, and i am wrapped in a hug each time i wear them. knitting this scarf has made me think about my grandmother even more than i usually do, which is quite a bit considering i think of her every single day when i look in the mirror and see the diamond from her engagement ring in a necklace around my neck or when i find myself holding the pendant in my fingers when i’m stressed or deep in some thought or another. i hope she knew (and knows) how much she was truly loved.



my whimsical, ruffled scarf

on to thing 5 (i decided i’m counting up) . . .