I learned to knit from my mother. I remember growing up that she had an exciting array of knitting needles, of varying sizes, lengths, and types, but mostly I remember her using aluminum needles, 10" or 14". I wanted to see her use the other, more 'exotic' types, but in the '60's the aluminum were the new, modern ones. The old wooden and plastics stayed in her carrying case for the most part.
Momma knitted quite a variety of articles, among them Barbie doll clothing. We had very little , and could not afford store-bought Barbie clothes. (Heck, we could barely afford the Barbie Dolls!) Observe the fashion sense of my 'bubble hair-cut' Barbie. She may have lost her shoes, but she is still stylin' in her hand knitted roll neck top and peg legs! Ooooh baby!
Mother and her sister, Favorite Aunt, learned to knit a circular, doily-like dishcloth about 30 years ago. I think she liked knitting them because the yarn was inexpensive, came in a variety of colors, was a portable project, and a project that was initially a challenge, then became one she could do by rote. It provided her something to sell at the craft bazaar at her church, and she gave them as gifts. They were always admired and appreciated, which she liked. Sometimes her dishclothes never made it to the kitchen sink, but were used as doilies.
She knitted STACKS of them(on sz 8 dpns, no less), like pancakes, each identical to the one before, and the one after. I think Momma might have knit thousands of them. The cotton yarn would be found on sale, or bought on-line in bulk, eventually. When I would come home for a visit, she would always ask, 'do you need any dishclothes?', and I would always say yes, thus enlarging my stash. I used them for gifts for my girl's school teachers, sunday school teachers, piano teachers, fellow employees, and anyone else. I could give them outright as dishclothes/doilies, or I would thread a ribbon through the 'eyelet' portion of the outside scallops, pulling it up to make a pouch, and fill it with candy. With the years, Momma's short term memory started to fail, yet she continued to knit the dishclothes, not missing a stitch. It was the most remarkable thing. My sisters and I knew the dishclothes would become a thing of the past eventually. While I had a copy of the instructions from years back, and had gone over them once with her, I wanted to make sure this knowledge wasn't going to slip away from us. I traveled back one weekend, and spent the afternoon with her in the assisted living facility where she lived. I took my needles, my yarn, and my copy of her hand-written directions, and parked myself on her couch, across from where she sat in her chair. I cast on, and we began. She watched, then questioned if I had dropped a stitch. I counted, and replied, 'no', and continued. Pretty soon she came over to sit beside me, and again questioned whether I had done something correctly. I started to bristle, just like a child, thinking, 'gosh, Mom, I know how to knit'.
Then I saw what an opportunity, what a gift, I was being given. I relaxed, and settled in next to my mother, and let her teach me all over again. We spent the afternoon, on her couch, knitting, and I had a second chance to enjoy her company, and her lessons, and her talent like I never really did as a child. I hold that afternoon close to my heart as such a treasure.
Mom's memory continued to erode, and pretty soon, the dishclothes were not so identical, or stacking 'like pancakes', and then she quit knitting. We knew we had crossed another bridge on her journey. The dishclothes no longer were given as gifts, as there would be no more from her.
Momma passed away almost three years ago, and now, as Precious Niece has put it, we guard our personal hoards of Momma's dishclothes like 'hissing dragons'. We knit our own, but personally, I have found another dishcloth pattern I like to knit. I can't do Momma's pattern as well as she could, so I don't even try for now. Her's was her's, and I can leave it like that. But I learned that one must....MUST....knit dishclothes, and when Sugar 'n Cream is on sale.....buy it!
Momma knitted quite a variety of articles, among them Barbie doll clothing. We had very little , and could not afford store-bought Barbie clothes. (Heck, we could barely afford the Barbie Dolls!) Observe the fashion sense of my 'bubble hair-cut' Barbie. She may have lost her shoes, but she is still stylin' in her hand knitted roll neck top and peg legs! Ooooh baby!
Mother and her sister, Favorite Aunt, learned to knit a circular, doily-like dishcloth about 30 years ago. I think she liked knitting them because the yarn was inexpensive, came in a variety of colors, was a portable project, and a project that was initially a challenge, then became one she could do by rote. It provided her something to sell at the craft bazaar at her church, and she gave them as gifts. They were always admired and appreciated, which she liked. Sometimes her dishclothes never made it to the kitchen sink, but were used as doilies.
She knitted STACKS of them(on sz 8 dpns, no less), like pancakes, each identical to the one before, and the one after. I think Momma might have knit thousands of them. The cotton yarn would be found on sale, or bought on-line in bulk, eventually. When I would come home for a visit, she would always ask, 'do you need any dishclothes?', and I would always say yes, thus enlarging my stash. I used them for gifts for my girl's school teachers, sunday school teachers, piano teachers, fellow employees, and anyone else. I could give them outright as dishclothes/doilies, or I would thread a ribbon through the 'eyelet' portion of the outside scallops, pulling it up to make a pouch, and fill it with candy. With the years, Momma's short term memory started to fail, yet she continued to knit the dishclothes, not missing a stitch. It was the most remarkable thing. My sisters and I knew the dishclothes would become a thing of the past eventually. While I had a copy of the instructions from years back, and had gone over them once with her, I wanted to make sure this knowledge wasn't going to slip away from us. I traveled back one weekend, and spent the afternoon with her in the assisted living facility where she lived. I took my needles, my yarn, and my copy of her hand-written directions, and parked myself on her couch, across from where she sat in her chair. I cast on, and we began. She watched, then questioned if I had dropped a stitch. I counted, and replied, 'no', and continued. Pretty soon she came over to sit beside me, and again questioned whether I had done something correctly. I started to bristle, just like a child, thinking, 'gosh, Mom, I know how to knit'.
Then I saw what an opportunity, what a gift, I was being given. I relaxed, and settled in next to my mother, and let her teach me all over again. We spent the afternoon, on her couch, knitting, and I had a second chance to enjoy her company, and her lessons, and her talent like I never really did as a child. I hold that afternoon close to my heart as such a treasure.
Mom's memory continued to erode, and pretty soon, the dishclothes were not so identical, or stacking 'like pancakes', and then she quit knitting. We knew we had crossed another bridge on her journey. The dishclothes no longer were given as gifts, as there would be no more from her.
Momma passed away almost three years ago, and now, as Precious Niece has put it, we guard our personal hoards of Momma's dishclothes like 'hissing dragons'. We knit our own, but personally, I have found another dishcloth pattern I like to knit. I can't do Momma's pattern as well as she could, so I don't even try for now. Her's was her's, and I can leave it like that. But I learned that one must....MUST....knit dishclothes, and when Sugar 'n Cream is on sale.....buy it!
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