I was just thinking as I sit here knitting, that it was a good thing that I had my heart broken when I was 15 years old.
After returning home from my first alone-flight to visit my friend Barbo in Erie PA and falling hard for the delicious Joel Tuczynski while I was there, I made my mother crazy with all the moping, whining and general pity-partying that I was doing, missing him and knowing I wouldn't probably ever get to see him again.
Her solution?
"You're going to learn how to knit".
I don't know if the connection was obvious to her, (wasn't to me) but I didn't put up any resistance and so it began, supposedly as a distraction.
Going back a few years, it was my dad who taught me to crochet, which he learned in the TB sanatorium after WWII. Apparently needlearts are a great way to distract from disease, whether physical or adolescent. I mention this because I learned to crochet and it didn't take. But I did learn to hold the yarn and needle in such a way as to ease my initiation into Continental knitting, later on.
After a blur of learning to cast on and rip out and cast on and rip out, I managed to get the gist and did begin my first project. My mom chose a pattern that used great big needles and a big skein of orlon sayelle yarn (ugh) that was all the rage in those days, summer of 1962. I don't remember too much about this little sweater except that it was peach colored and had very loopy stitches. I finished it in a couple of days, (non stop knitting) and had passed the love crisis sufficiently to rate a tougher design, this time in wool.
I chose for my second sweater an Aran Isle design with lots of cables, diamonds, bobbles, and all sorts of complicated stitches. I was undaunted. And naive.
This time I also had a peach colored yarn...could that have been my mom's choice? I think so. Anyway I dove in, and attacked the pattern, learning as I went along. A week later I was finished. It was imho, magnificent. Other's might have said it was, um, recognizable as a sweater.
Part of my education was the rule that a finished knit needed washing to get the oils and dirt out of the yarn and block the sizing. So....I filled a sink with hot sudsy water and proceeded to felt the life out of my sweater and turn it into an unwearable disaster.
Sigh.
I grudgingly gave up on wool and returned to acrylic and kept knitting. By then I was determined to make up my own design. (Where do children get that kind of confidence???) Color-blocked ala Mondrian and 60's clothes was my big idea and multi-colored sections of orange, yellow, red, the ubiquitous peach, and fuchsia went together for this pullover and I was careful not to overdo the final washout. Keep in mind that I was knitting for my own body, wearing a AA bra and having absolutely no hips to work around, and it is no wonder I plowed through these sweaters in days.
One finished item led to another, also of my own design, and by the end of summer I had finished 13 sweaters, some of them school wearable.
I was a real knitter. Forgot about Joel and saved a meager amount of my mother's sanity.
At that time Sears sold yarn, and had a sale. We went and did damage. Thus began my lifelong habit of lying about yarn. We told my dad that we saved him so much money by waiting til this yarn was cheaper. ha!
But I digress.
As I look back on this time I recall that my Christmas/birthday present was the best ever that year. Fabric for a skirt and matching yarn for a sweater! It meant that I was good enough at both sewing and knitting to rate these raw materials. Contrast this with getting the finished garments as a gift. Not the same.
Jumping ahead to grown up years when I traveled so much on airplanes, I passed the time knitting socks, a small project which could fit into my purse and keep me happy while waiting for flight delays. I accumulated oodles of socks which filled my drawers and became gifts for others, and brought me back to wool yarn, especially hand dyed stuff. Wool yarn is so different than acrylic and has a life of it's own, responding to my fingers with squishy springy movement. And now that I have discovered and "invested" in non-itchy Merino, and especially merino-silk blends, it is against the skin bliss. Many of my yarns are superwash, which defeats and eliminates the felting of that early mistake.
Learning to knit for me has resulted in finding a coterie of like minded people and developed into a sort of cottage industry for me. My knitting friends at church are so great, and do such good work for charity. Meeting on a weekly basis we find ourselves healthier mentally for having each other.
So good thing my heart got broken back then, 55 years ago, so I can justify my stash...