I started reading a book today, called The Knitting Circle, by Ann Hood. I like a book that makes me think, and within the first 3 chapters (that's as far as I have gotten) I was asking myself a wonderful, deep thinking question.
What is it that makes each knitter, or crocheter, pick up the needles, or hooks, and yarn?
Every fiber worker has her, or his, story.
A grandmother spends lazy afternoons teaching a young child to knit, and they lost that Grandmother was laid to rest a few year later, they remember their Gran by knitting.
A mother of two picked up the craft when she was pregnant as a way to unwind, or a woman picks it up as a distraction, while trying to quit drinking, smoking or drugs... it busies their hands.
I picked it up because my sister had brain cancer. I learned to loom knit, and I told my sister that I would knit her a "real knit" hat, "like in the movies"...I promised to teach myself after Thanksgiving 2009. She passed away October 23, 2009. I kept my promise, and taught myself to knit that fall. I made hats and donated them to the children's ward at the local hospital, knitting until my fingers blistered and callused.
I picked up crochet because my Grandmother did it. I always loved the blankets and pillows in awful 70's colors with cheap acrylic yarn that she used to snuggle me up in. After Grandpa passed, she moved in with her daughter, and I never heard or saw her again.
She passed away a week ago. And while she didn't get to see me grow up, and I hadn't talk to her in years, I found myself picking up the hook, and just working each stitch and thinking of her voice as she taught me the stitches.
"Like building blocks in your life, the chain you create here will be the foundation of your project!"
What's your story?