a big purple thing

I have a friend in New Jersey. In mid April her neighborhood was hit by a flood. The water destroyed an entire floor of her home, which consisted of the master suite, laundry, utility and storage area. The estimated damage is somewhere around $60,000. She managed to get out with a few sweat pants and shirts, her dog, and a few other items. The rest is gone, destroyed by the water.

Since then she has lived in a gutted home, sleeping on an inflatable mattress on the floor. Until recently she slept with a bat beside her, to protect herself from those who had been rumaging through abandoned homes. The heat was restored only a few weeks ago, as was the water.

There have been other hits as well. Her dog was attacked by another dog at the place he was staying while she worked to repair the home. Her car was hit in the parking lot of her work. She has been fighting a bout of bronchitis. She came home one night to find the possessions she had put on the curb had been ransacked.


How do you move on when the world crumbles around you? Where do you go when you have nothing, and are supported by handouts of those around you? How do you find strength when your whole life is reduced to mere boxes on a curb?

And how do you, a friend living two states away, help?

I am a knitter. As such, the first thing that came to my mind was to knit something. But what do you knit in a time such as this? I knew I wanted something big and snuggly. I wanted something to keep her warm, something she could wrap herself in, something sturdy in the rough days ahead of her.

Choosing the color was easy. My friend's favorite color is purple, so that was what I would use. Purple I knew represents royalty, wealth and wisdom. I also discovered upon some research that purple is meant to calm, and to heal. It seemed too perfect.

But what to make? I didn't want to make her anything fragile. I wanted something that would make her feel tougher, a really tough bit of knitting that could take whatever heat is headed my friend's way. Something to be a barrier between her and some of the hard things she will be doing.

A blanket.

I chose the stocknette stitch, one of the most basic in knitting. I liked the idea for its simplicity, which would mean the focus would fall on the colors. I chose four to use, holding the stands together; a darker purple, a lighter lilac, a bright purple, and a mixture of blue and purple.

About halfway through, I realized I didn't enjoy it. The giant needles I was using created a more drappy loose feel. It was too loose for my liking, particularly for a blanket. I cast on again, this time with smaller needles, and for three days knitted away.

I knit and purled until there was no yarn left. Then there it was: a soft, durable, warm blanket to wrap herself in. I know that really, when your friend is hurting and far away, knitting can do very little to actually care for them. Yet, since all I can do is knit a big purple thing and mail it, then I sincerely hope it helps.

problem

My fellow knitters, we have a problem.

No, it's not stashing. Despite what you may think, our collecting mass amounts of yarn then storing them in our houses is not what is wrong. In fact, it's downright understandable. My grandfather, who does woodworking, has a sideroom in his garage filled with various tools and an assortment of wood pieces. In our garage sits a shelf filled with various pots, fertilizer, and gardening tools my mother uses. So then I ask, is it not reasonable that I, a knitter, keep all my various tools in one place?

Stashing is not the problem.

It's not a problem with our choice of projects, either. I may not have any use for a knitted dog costume, but that doesn't mean it's worthless. Somewhere, some knitter is working on a knitted dog costume, because they think their little Fido will look adorable in it. If it can be knit, someone is knitting it. Don't believe me? Read this post.

Before you ask, it's the same with yarn. Every yarn, from the most expensive alpacca to the cheepest acrylic, has a purpose. Acrylic is afordable for anyone, knits up well, and is machine washable. It also makes for great Warm Up America squares. On the other hand, when given the choice and the funds, I love making items of good quality yarn as well.

So no, our projects and the yarn we use for them is not the problem.

Our problem is not even how much we knit. Knitting is fun, it's enjoyable, else we wouldn't do it. We would have long retired our needles and gone to Walmart for socks. And yes, even after I've ripped out half the work which took me hours to do because I notice a mistake 10 rows back, I still enjoy it. There's just something about giving away an item you've made with your own hands that can't be beat.

So then, what's the problem?

Our challenge, my fellow craft-a-holics, comes at holidays or birthdays. It happens when one of your non-knitting family members or friends goes absolutely bonkers for that furry scarf you made, even though it took only two hours and little skill to knit it, and even though they are holding a pair of handknit socks or a lace scarf, something that took twenty hours and tremendous skill to knit, in their hands.

It always seems like that, doesn't it? Lace shawl, a polite thank you and appreciation, novelty yarn scarf, the crowd goes wild.

They just don't get it.