Green Ball of Yarn

My Dad was elementary school age during WWI and in the patriotic fever that swept the entire country, all the kids in his school were taught to knit for the soldiers.  The teacher would cast on.....the kids would knit, knit, knit.....the teacher would bind off.  (He must have been part of the scarf-making brigade.)  My Dad's knitting skills were limited, but this certainly didn't deter him, when he loaded me in the family Buick and took me to pick out some yarn and needles.  He was going to teach me to knit!  Age:  6.  (His philosophy of life:  if you want to do something badly enough, you'll figure out a way to do it.  I wanted to knit.)

McCrory's Five and Dime Store---nasty acrylic yarn, clicky metal needles.  For some reason I wanted my needles to match my yarn, and the only yarn/needle matchy choice was green.  Perfect.  Nope, not my favorite color.  Probably not even in the top 5, but green it was.  

When we got home....I couldn't wait (!!!!!) for him to loop some stitches  on the needles (he didn't know how to cast on; remember---teacher always did that); he refreshed himself on the knit stitch---showed me ?????? times, and I was off and running (or knitting).  I dragged that stuff with me everywhere (I was an only child).  He and Mom dragged ME everywhere.  There I was at their gin rummy night---with my knitting.  Car trip?  Had to pack my knitting.  On the beach....sandy knitting.   I'd knit to the end of the ball of yarn---take it to my Dad and together we'd admire what a fine job I had done.....then together, we'd rip it all apart (remember, he didn't know how to bind off), wind it back into a ball; he'd loop on a different number of stitches------and I'd knit it all up again.  And again.  And again.  And again.  I knit that same ball of yarn for YEARS!!!!  (the beautiful soft wools we have today would NEVER had stood that kind of abuse....but, nasty, cardboardy acrylic---it wore like iron.)

I eventually learned to cast on--and bind off--and purl---and cable--and all the other good stuff knitters know.  I actually make things now.  Knitting has been with me through the early stages of childbirth--twice....through the pain of losing my parents....through the joys of becoming a grandma.  When I had no words of comfort to share with a friend who lost her only child, I had a handknit shawl with which to wrap her-- and as we cried together, she knew my heart was breaking, too.  When a 4 year old granddaughter told her momma that she didn't need Santa to bring her anything this year, Grandma is knitting her doll all the clothes she could ever need--that same heart bursts with love and joy.  

It all started with a green ball of yarn.  

And, it will probably end that way, too.  My darling daughter jokes that when I'm safely tucked away in the nursing home (undoubtedly with some form of dementia)---she knows I'll be happy as a clam as long as I have .......a green ball of yarn.  Let's just hope she finds a good nasty acrylic one!

Appeared in Bella Grace Magazine, Autumn 2020.