Knitting speaks louder than words

The need to knit is strong. The craft brings people together and offers a sense of calm.

By Dawn Goldsmith

from the December 5, 2007 edition

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A few days ago a friend and knitting fanatic e-mailed me about a knitter who makes cupcakes for knitters and their knitting parties. She even offers easy-to-follow instructions. I'm not sure marzipan knitting will garner as wide an appeal as traditional yarn knitting, but checking out what people are doing renews my awe of human creativity. So I oohed and aahed over her sugary stockinette-stitched cupcake décor with toothpick-size knitting needles.

Having spent several years as CEO of my own little cottage enterprise of baking cakes, I know a bit about novelty decorations and probably feel more sure of my leaf tip than I do of my No. 7 knitting needles. Inevitably, I begin each knitting project in fear of a dropped stitch. But my need to knit is strong.

My theory: Knitting and crisis go together. It brought women together during World Wars I and II. Whether residents of Allied or Axis countries, women knitted woolen squares to sew together into blankets for the soldiers.

My mother, born in 1912, remembered making these squares as a child during World War I. She gathered with her mother and other women in their little Ohio community in the church fellowship hall. All came armed with needles and yarn.

The Red Cross distributed the completed blankets to the wounded. When the recipients touched the hand-knit squares, they would recall the loving hands of their own mothers, sisters, and wives.

First lady Eleanor Roosevelt could host a tea party and talk politics with her husband and his cronies. But she could also manipulate four double-pointed needles, and she turned out sock after sock for soldiers fighting World War II. Her knitting spoke as loudly as her words.

I recall one summer as a preteen, waiting my turn to model my 4-H sewing project at the annual style show. I looked out from the stage to see someone's mother placidly knitting a pink sweater. Knit and purl, knit and purl. Her eyes were watching the stage as her hands did something completely different.

She appeared to be an island of control and peace in the lively audience. I wanted to leap from the stage and sit by her side and ask, "Will you teach me such confidence, please?"

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