Last fall I decided to knit. My decision, of course, had nothing to do with the recent article on the cover of the New York Times Sunday Styles section that chronicled the current craze, or reports that glamour gals like Julia Roberts and Cindy Crawford had taken up the hobby. I decided to knit in November when my grandmother, Grandma Blanche, visited from Florida. “Wouldn’t it be a nice if I learned how to knit?” I thought. “It would be just like that movie How to Make an American Quilt; one generation passing their craft down to another.” I thought some more. “And wouldn’t it be nice if, while earning some much-needed brownie points with my grandmother, I could make myself a nice wool or cashmere shawl – the kind I could never afford from a store?” And I thought some more. “I do spend an inordinate amount of time sitting on my sofa watching TV. Wouldn’t it be nice if I had something to show for my hours on the couch?” So I decided to knit. And then, only days after I cast my first ball of cerulean wool onto my six-point bamboo needles, came the article on the cover of the Sunday Styles section and reports that glamour gals Julia Roberts and Cindy Crawford had taken up the practice. Suddenly my charitable and autonomous decision didn’t seem so charitable or autonomous. I was just another wannabe. But I had already spent $18.50 plus tax on a ball of designer yarn, and my grandmother seemed so happy – I could see myself jumping several steps on her favorite grandchild ladder. So I continued to knit one purl one, knit one purl one while I watched reruns of Seinfeld and listened to NPR. I would knit one purl one, knit one purl one on the subway and the PATH and the two-hour train to my parents’ house. I would knit one purl one, knit one purl one at the movies, in the car and on my Continental flight to Michigan. After four long and laborious months, I finally finished my first scarf. Like giving birth or traveling to the moon, there are simply no words to describe the elation one feels after one’s first project is complete. And if I can do it, anyone can, with a little help from Grandma Blanche of course. Helpful hints from Grandma Blanche It all began 60 years ago, back in Detroit, when Grandma Blanche gave birth to her first child. “I was home with Aunt Rissa [my mother’s oldest sister],” said Grandma Blanche, who is currently the mother of three, the grandmother of eight and great-grandmother of six. “Taking care of one child just wasn’t enough to keep me busy. So my friend who lived upstairs taught me to knit. It was something to do with my spare time.” Since she started, Grandma Blanche has knit hundreds of blankets, sweaters, hats and mittens for family and friends. “Once I even knit a two-piece dress for myself, and I wore it all the time,” she said. (Currently there is a three-year waiting period for one of her famous fluffy afghans.) For beginners, Grandma Blanche has just two words of advice: “start simple.” She suggests learning on something small and uncomplicated like a scarf or a doily. “You need to practice holding the needles and learning the stitches,” she said. “And if I were just starting out, I wouldn’t buy the most expensive yarn, like you and your mother do.” (Obviously a jab at my $18.50-plus-tax designer wool.) She continued, “I would buy cheap yarn to practice. But then I would buy higher-quality yarn. Once I was good, I wouldn’t waste my hours on cheap yarn.” Unlike her offspring, and her offspring’s offspring, Grandma Blanche prefers synthetic fibers to wool. “I like yarn that has a soft feel,” she said. “Like when you crawl under the afghan I made for your mother, and it’s all comfy. And I’m cheap. I don’t like to use wool – like you and your mother – because I don’t like to pay for dry cleaning. I like to be able to simply toss the afghan into the washing machine.” Always a realist, my Grandma Blanche. “OK, honey, is that it?” she asked. “Because I really need to go.” And with that she was off, no doubt to work on an afghan for her favorite grandchild.
Knit one purl one: Knitting for dummies
