As for me, I bought my first set of knitting needles (hot pink!) at Wal-Mart along with some intriguing looking yarn while visiting a friend in Colorado, back in October 2004. I'd flown out to visit, determined to escape the stress of work, to completely unplug. The house where she was living was perfect: the TV only worked to watch videos, Internet access was dial-up only and shared, and everyone who lived there was coming and going so much "entertainment" was essentially a do-it-yourself project. Just the night before, my friend Celina had completely astounded me by whipping up a golden-tinged scarf, fringe and all, in a matter of hours while we'd gabbed away the evening. Another woman living in the house had also been diligently working away at some brightly-colored scarves she was knitting for Christmas gifts. So, after four days of overexposure, I was sick of watching all this creativity come to life around me. I wanted in.
Celina recommended I start learning on some rather "fat" plastic needles, and I picked out a few skeins of the prettiest yarn I could find. I remember being very impressed at all the different colors and textures vying for attention on the shelves. The yarns didn't seem to be as boring and ordinary as what I'd remembered when I first tried to learn to knit about age 12 and abandoned shortly thereafter. Back at the ranch, Celina showed me how to "cast on" and within an hour or so, I'd made a decent start at a scarf. There was just one problem: I kept getting "snagged" on little colored tufts set along the strand, and I feared I was countering that by tugging too tightly on the yarn as I went along. Celina pulled out my stitches and had me start again with the other skein, and things went much more smoothly. But I hadn't counted loops correctly, so it became clearly pretty quickly I'd have to start again on that one too. But before we did, I insisted on documentation. Here's the proof:
And that's the night I officially became a "knit wit."Granted, I didn't receive the book with that very title until Christmas '05, but I went a little nuts. I kept knitting that first scarf over the next day, and was delighted to discover that -- yes!-- plastic needles were permitted as a carry-on by the airline. By the time I landed home in Rochester, the scarf was about two-thirds done. I finished it within the week, thanks to the help of another friend, Sarah, whom readers met in Sunday's Freestyle feature. Sarah taught me how to "cast off" and given she had been the one who taught Celina how to knit shortly before Celina moved west, the knitting trend/craze/what-have-you had come full circle. In my exuberance, however, the scarf was extra-long, but that just made it perfect for my very tall friend Sonya. Come Christmas, I'd knitted more scarves as presents, giving them to one of my sisters, my tiny niece, and my mom. Over that winter, two more went to one co-worker and another friend, and a third intended for a birthday present for yet another friend started taking shape.
After interviewing others in my generation who've been bitten by the knitting/crochet bug, and hearing similar stories, it appears we've followed a similar pattern: youthful introduction, lapse into latency, re-introduction, newfound devotion, and ultimately, consistent creation, hopefully with a growing expertise. That's what it was like for East Rochester resident Kristine Colucci, who crochets because she says it's a better fit for someone who is "the least patient person most of my friends have ever met."
"I just need instant gratification," she told me, describing how she first learned from her grandmother back when Kristine was in 7th grade. Like me, like Sarah, Kristine let it slide until later. She picked up crochet again in college one day in junior year when she was "over-stressed," she says. (Speaking of stress, veteran knitter Noma Kent -- whom you also met in Sunday's article -- told me she finds it "soothing" to do something repetitious like knitting after a hectic day. She called it her "stress-meter" because she can tell she needs to relax more if her stitches start off too tight.)
Kristine must have been tracking that kind of vibe, because she said she went straight to the nearest craft store, bought yarn and crochet hooks, came back to her dorm at the University of Delaware and dug in. She'd picked up yarn in each of her friend's favorite colors and pretty soon, an "afghan of many colors" was growing longer and longer across her lap, she said.
Her two roommates and two more girls down the hall were quickly hooked on the new hobby (yes, she did intend the pun!) and she said the five of them would spread out their crochet projects when they plunked down in front of the TV each week to watch "their" show. (Interesting, isn't it, she couldn't remember which show, but she remembers everything else about their little crochet klatch? Something about working with one's hands always seems to spark good conversation.)
Kristine was 19 then. She's 35 now and said she's been crocheting ever since. She considers crochet a perfect pastime because "it's something I can do while my girls are playing or while I'm watching TV." She also told me it's an easy way to fill time waiting for the next ambulance call at the Greece base, where she volunteers.
She's even got a new crochet-partner-in-crime: her next-door neighbor Tracy. The two moms are planning to take a class later this year to advance beyond simple afghans, Kristine said.
Kudos to Kristine for being so consistent. I confess, I haven't been all that consistent myself recently, and my friend Sarah would tell you she's seen that in a lot of individuals she's introduced to the practical art. But there must still be hope, because she senses that even if newcomers don't stick with it, more members of this generation have an appreciation for handmade goods. For example, it's not entirely uncommon for someone Sarah's age to hire her to knit a sweater they want to wear themselves or one they want to give as a gift at a friend's baby shower. Beats Wal-Mart or Baby Gap, she figures. Plus, it tells her they desire "to support something made around here rather than China, Mexico or Sri Lanka," she told me.
I think she's got a point there. Who doesn't love "accessible" art, as she calls it? Maybe that's why so many of us don't mind being knit wits -- novice, veteran or every stripe in-between.
One thing's for sure: just writing about the craze motivates me once again to be more consistent about this particular creative craft. After all, there are some gorgeous wooden needles and yummy yarns in the corner of my room calling my name. Plus, my sister has begged me to knit a poncho for my niece -- she thinks they're adorable, we both know Sky will love it, and she's not about to drop $35 on one from a store when she's seen my stash. Given my schedule, it couldn't happen by Christmas, like I hoped, but a March birthday is do-able. Luckily, with the public posting here, I'm sure to be held accountable. :)
Here's to the Knit Wits!
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