Musings on Stash

From Theresa

A while back, someone dropped off about six garbage bags of yarn for our knitting-for-others groups. As I was sorting through it—browns and tans for the Mother Bear Project, cottons for the chemo hat knitters, vibrant acrylics for the church ladies—I found an unfinished project, needles still in place halfway through the row. I was struck by such a sense of connection and sadness. Who was this knitter? Why hadn’t she finished the row? What happened to her as she was thinking, “Let me just finish this row.” From the era of the yarn and the needles, I guess the project was from an older knitter who’d either had to give up knitting or who’d died suddenly.

I know from experience that sometimes we aren’t allowed to finish the row—in our knitting or in our lives.

As I looked at this half-finished shawl, I had a choice—I could rip it out and let someone reuse the yarn. The yarn could be reincarnated into a new hat and scarf, a sweater, an afghan. Or I could leave it as is and let someone else rip it out. Or I could finish the row, finish the shawl, and pass it on.

That’s what I did, I finished the shawl that some other knitter had started. And I gave the shawl to a group that knits and crochets blankets and shawls for hospice. It lives on even as I’m sure the original knitter doesn’t. I designed the Carmarthan shawl (TG #134), adapting the stitch pattern used in that unfinished project.

If only we could all live long enough to knit up our entire stashes. Would that mean that if we kept buying yarn and knitting that we could convey eternal life upon ourselves?

My Box Runneth Over

Yo, Norma, check this picture out!  I know it’s not great, but at least the scarves aren’t hanging on my neighbor’s fence.  Some additional scarves arrived via interoffice mail. Last night I put care tags on the other  scarves. Some of them I could tell what the yarn content was, others were put to the match. (Shout from downstairs – Hey what are you burning up there?) When in doubt, I used the hand wash tags. I’m planning to get this box in the mail tomorrow, and I know there are a few more scarves coming. Is this great, or what?

Norma asked those making scarves to write and say why. At first, I thought, what does she mean, why? Because I can, that’s why. Then I started to really think. Knitting is great for thinking. Dulaan is easy, it’s for kids who are freezing cold and poor. And yes, I’m usually good for a square or two for an afghan. But why additional effort for this and not another ‘knit for people I don’t know and probably never will’ — what spoke to me? I mean, besides Gale’s fab poster.

Honestly, it took a while for these feelings to surface. When I was beginning college/university, my mother, who was never sick, became mysteriously ill. At the beginning of my second year, she died of pancreatic cancer. My support was gone. My dad had his hands full with his grief and financial problems. He had lost his job shortly before my mother died, and there were three kids still at home. (I’m the middle of seven, and the oldest girl.) I’m sure he figured as long as he didn’t need to worry about me, all was OK. No letters or care packages. Plus I was going to school in Ottawa, and my family lived in New Jersey, so I couldn’t pop home for visits. I didn’t even go to my graduation, since there was no one planning to attend. Hmmm, do you think that could be why the Red Scarf Project called my name?

I had so much more than kids who spent most of their lives in foster care, but I still remember the feeling of loneliness. So keep those scarves coming, folks.

Or start now for next year. Thanks to all those anonymous knitters who made my box runneth over.

MORE Red Scarves

I stopped over to the Yarnery to pick up scarves and got these. And there are people calling the shop to find out the deadline. That means more, I hope. Now I just have to figure out some cute tags to put on these.  If you knit any of these, let me know, so you can get some public acknowledgement.

Teaching Young Children to Knit or “Aunt Lou, do you learn from your mistakes?”

OK. I know there are some folks out there who, when knitting in public, do not encourage children to climb on their lap and join in. If you fall into that category, skip this post. On the other hand, if you believe that enouraging knitting or hand work of any kind in children is a gift, you’ve no doubt experienced this:

Scene: Airport, waiting room, party, family gathering

Cast: You, knitting away on something. Child, often of an age too young to really knit.

Child: “What are you doing? Are you sewing? What is that? You can make socks? Can I try?”

You: “Of course, climb up on my lap/stand here in front of me, and I’ll help you.”

What I have found is that most kids only want to try a few stitches. Let them. You can always un-knit them and redo it. The kid will have moved on to something else, and won’t see what you are doing .

I have also found that children are innately respectful of the knitting if you treat them with respect. I remember at a party a four-year old, about to climb up for her lesson, looked carefully at the pale grey kidsilk haze. “I’ll be right back” she told me “I have to wash my hands.”

One problem is that so often kids want to knit something they can keep, but they don’t yet have the attention span to make anything substantial, or you aren’t around them for a long enough time. My solution is a bookmark. (Most knitters have extra yarn and needles in the knitting bag. Use these rather than your current project.)

Bookmark: Cast on 10, 15, 20 sts. (Depending on how much yarn, time, and patience are available.) You knit one row, demonstrating. Help the child knit one row, two if they are really motivated. Make encouraging sounds. Two favorites are:

“You’re a natural!” and “I teach grown ups to knit and they never learn this fast.”

Watch them sit up straighter and look extra pleased with themselves on hearing that last one.

Bind off. If you have a needle, weave in the ends. Present the bookmark to the knitter to take home. Even if they never knit again, it is in that little brain somewhere. I also like to think it might encourage a love of books.

Here’s my nephew, who is in the first grade, and has limited access to television. He came dashing in to the bedroom as we were packing to head home after Christmas. “Aunt Lou - I just remembered, I want to knit some more. (He had done a few stitches on a sock a few nights before.) So we began the bookmark, reciting the ‘off jumps Jack’ poem. “I remember last time you were here, you told me that one good thing about knitting is that you can fix your mistakes. Do you learn from your mistakes?” (Yes, he is only 6.)

I told him I try to. His other aunt, who had stopped in to see what her 24 month old was up to, suggested that the very best thing is to learn from other peoples’s mistakes. I wish.

Noah was so excited to knit. He said right away, “Oh you always move the stitches from this needle to the other one.”

He was so excited to have a bookmark that he knitted. “My mom and dad will be very impressed.”

 

He was so sad not to have his own yarn and needles. I felt sorry that I had none to leave for him, and no time to take him shopping for some. I promised to send needles, yarn and a how-to book as soon as I got home. He looked wistfully at the yarn and needles I was packing away. “If I had yarn and needles, I would waste my cartoon time knitting.” My kind of kid.