Knitters—A Subculture of Their Own

I admit I’ve knitted sweaters in the past, my favorite being the few I knitted out of several colors of yarn. I enjoyed watching the patterns form. But I’m not a knitter; I don’t belong to that collective of women who discuss the characteristics of yarn, pull out balls of yarn—new acquisitions—to show visitors who arrive at the door, and knit up little squares to test the color, gauge, and stitches of a new pattern. I don’t belong to that separate little subculture of knitters.

Now, my friend Jennie is a knitter. She and her sisters and knitting friends will travel a hundred miles to a particular yarn store, talk about which yarns can be found at which outlets, and search the Internet for the most innovative patterns. She’s produced sweaters at NASCAR races and hockey games; and at least one family member can count on a new, hand-knit sweater from Jennie each Christmas. Perhaps my favorite mental snapshot I have of Jennie and her favorite avocation is the time she walked over to greet her former sister-in-law Ann (still a good friend and knitting buddy), who was riding past on a horse. Ann stopped to chat, and Jennie pulled out her latest knitting project to show Ann the stitches—and the mare Ann was riding swung her head around and, swear to God, looked at Jennie’s knitting as Jennie exhibited it to Ann.

I’ll probably never be a knitter like Jennie, but I admit to being curious when she tells me about a new yarn purchase she’s made, and I find myself asking to see the stuff when I go for a visit. And I admit to being tempted to pick up my own knitting needles again—until I remember the disastrous sleeves, all too long, too skinny, and too tight, that I’ve been guilty of producing in years past. Then I content myself with admiring the beautiful colors and textures of Jennie’s stash of yarn and watching the patterns form as we sit and chat, while she knits up a storm.