In Situ

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On Friday morning before I got on a plane, I had gathered my knitting, and packed it, and was happy with my choices.  I put my luggage by the door. I called a cab.  Ken’s Birthday was Sunday, but in a move I thought protected my sanity, I’d decided to skip the Birthday Socks tradition.  There was no time.  I was okay with it, but at the last minute, as I watched out the window for the taxi, a voice in the back of my head suggested that this was a bad move.  I don’t know if that voice is guilt or instinct, but I know what comes from ignoring it, so I grabbed the yarn that I’d considered making his Birthday Socks from, along with some needles, and changed my plan entirely.  I knew that socks by Monday was pretty much impossible, but the voice thought that trying was worth it.

Ignore those needles. I swapped them out for ones that were in my bag after I discovered a gauge problem in the cab.  Now, I know that I can knit pretty quickly when I need to, but there’s being able to knit quickly in the time you have, and then there’s not really having a lot of time… and I tried to explain this to the voice. I tried to tell it that I was going to be busy the whole weekend. The voice said shut up and knit.  By the time I was waiting for my first flight, I had started.

By the time I’d landed in Montreal, I thought things were going pretty well.

Technically Ken’s Birthday was Sunday, but I wasn’t going to see him until Monday. That gave me Friday, Saturday, Sunday and half of Monday to finish, and that’s a lot of time. If you ignore working, which I decided was best. I changed planes:

I kept knitting.  By the time I arrived in Boston, things swimming.

I knit backstage before I did my talk…

Forgive the bad shot. I was concentrating on the talk.  I knit after the talk, I knit a little with my breakfast, and then not at all through the day during class.  I did knit at the guild dinner that night though.  Everybody was.

That night I had a little talk with myself.  I had 3.5 days to knit a pair of socks, and I was not yet at the end of the first sock at the end of the second day, and anyone with a little intelligence can tell you that’s a problem. Still… when I checked in with the voice, it said to keep going.   There wasn’t much knitting the next day – but after class on my way to the airport, I hustled on it – and by the time I was waiting for my plane, I had one sock done. 

The voice and I had a chat again.  I pointed out that I was now seriously behind. That it was 7pm on Sunday, that I would see Ken in less than 24 hours, and that it might be time to quit. The voice was having none of it, and while I started the second sock I checked in with the internet – which is sort of the best way to stay on top of what’s happening with my family while I’m in an airport. There I read that a member of Ken’s family of choice had passed away over the weekend.  The voice resisted the urge to say "I told you it was a bad year to skip the socks."

I knit faster. On the plane, as I walked through the airport,

while I waited for my luggage.

On Monday, I was feeling pretty bummed. The sock wasn’t done. There just wasn’t enough time, and I decided to set it aside until after we had gathered for a family dinner that night.  Right then I got a text from Ken, and it said this:

  "Apparently I wear hand knits as emotional armour." 

I instantly knew what he meant. He was heading out into the world in the face of a hard day, and he had wrapped himself in his woollies – protection against all kinds of cold.  I do it all the time, choosing to wear something made by a friend as a talisman for luck or protection.  I thought about that, and I picked up the socks and started to knit again. I wasn’t going to finish quite on time, but there was still value in it. More value than a clean kitchen, or whatever I was putting them down for.  I texted him back:

"That’s what they’re for. Portable love."

The socks weren’t done in time for the dinner. He opened them unfinished, like a lot of his Birthday Socks in the past. 

It turned out not to matter that they weren’t finished. It mattered that they were there.  The voice had known all along. Never skip the Birthday Socks.  Never. 

Pattern: Plain Vanilla Socks from Knitting Rules . Yarn: Hot Socks Nil, colour 25. Thanks to Sam for modelling.

They’re done now, and I won’t be doubting my instincts again.  Sure, knitting is fun and entertaining, and it makes things that are warm and cozy, but mostly?
Knitting is still the best container I know for love – especially when you give it to another knitter.

136 thoughts on “In Situ”

  3. Ohhhh! I don’t want to forget about the needles shown in the first picture. Those are my Blackthorn DPNs! I know you didn’t use them for these socks, but it’s nice to see they are still in consideration for your knitting.

  6. So glad you listened to your inner voice….each stitch is a hug to your friend….

  8. Once again you’ve stated EXACTLY what I feel – knitting is love. Right now, I’m expressing love for myself by knitting myself a beautiful Hitchhiker – but I really love knitting for the (other) people I care about!

  9. Love shines! Thank you for sharing your story. It’s a wonderful reminder to listen.

  11. I wear talismans all the time – whether it’s my mom’s rings or locket, or the socks my grandmother knit me.
    I’m knitting my own talisman socks right now. After months of poor knitting mojo, I grabbed some yarn and started working on socks to wear when my next little mogrunt is born. They are progressing faster than anything I’ve knit this winter.
    Sending love from the East Coast for Ken. So very sorry for his loss.

  12. Intensely glad your listened. Knitting is love made tangible. Blessings to Ken and his dear ones, and I’m so sorry for his loss. So glad you made his socks. Thank you, Stephanie.

  13. Of course the voice was right. I will remember. And I’m sorry for Ken’s loss.

  15. Dear Stephanie- Thank you for putting into words what I do all the time. I lost my best friend to cancer in September 2012 and most days I wear something she made me which, over the years, were dozens of pairs of socks, pullovers, cardigans and shawls. We always knit for each other and it gives me comfort and strength to wear the beautiful things she made me to get through the days without her. You said what I feel so eloquently. Thank you. Gale

  16. Oh, that’s beautiful – knitted gifts as emotional armour.
    And what joy when the knitted gifts are appreciated for what they’re worth!

  17. I love this! It makes me tear up a little as I think of the love sent out through our knits. Happy belated birthday Ken!

  19. I wish I could knit faster so I could actually attempt birthday socks or a birthday shawl or Christmas stocking or whatever. I just don’t use all my free moments to knit (too much time on the internet and I have a toddler to play with).
    I do get quite a bit done, though, considering…

  20. Happy Birthday, Ken, and sorry for your loss.
    Always listen to that inner voice.
    When you knit a gift, each stitch says “I was thinking of you”.

  24. Hand knit socks are a “Hug for your feet” and what your feet feel affects your whole being.

  25. Wow you knit fast! I can manage a pair of socks in 3.5 days during a conference, but that involves knitting almost 10 hours a day…

  28. Oh Steph, you’re going to make me cry at work!
    This is such a lovely testament to all the unexpressed reasons I (and all the knitters I know) knit. Happy Birthday to Ken, and my condolences for his loss.

  29. I gave my own favorite socks to a terminally ill loved one the last time I saw her — only a week or so before her death. I hope that she wore them in those last days and knew that I was with her every minute…Knitting’s a whole lot more than strings and sticks.

  30. “Emotional armour.” “Portable love.” Great descriptions! My husband calls his hand-knit socks “little sweaters for my feet.” Sending belated birthday wishes to Ken, and my condolences for his loss.

  33. So what I am hearing is that I better start on my husband’s birthday socks. I make him socks for birthday and Christmas each year since I started knitting socks. I was thinking of skipping this year’s birthday socks. I guess now I’m not…

  34. I’m so glad you had them to give to him. Really lovely yarn, too.
    Is it weird that I didn’t expect your fingernails to be so fancy?

  36. Glad you listened to the voice – 1+ socks in the box is better than none, and you really did come close to getting them done before dinner.
    I might not do socks, but the sentiments you echo are universal when it comes hand knitting/crocheting – it is portable love. 🙂

  38. Oh God. Now I feel horribly guilty for skipping my Grandmother’s birthday socks! The only thing she ever asks for and wears constantly (she wears no other socks than the ones I knit for her). And she just turned 95. And she is a knitter herself!
    Am now wracked with guilt and shall be a knitting machine this weekend. I will not rest until she has her socks.
    *sob*

  39. Beautiful, just beautiful. You are both so lucky to have found each other.
    :’-) <-that’s a tearing up happy face if the translation isn’t right.

  41. True. Beautiful and inspirational; now if you’ll excuse me I’m off to design and knit socks for my two best friends, both of whom live overseas, and neither of whom has ever received one single blessed knitted item from me EVER because of the prohibitive cost of mailing them. Enough of that nonsense, if I can knit for total strangers I can bloody well knit for them!

  43. You have me tearing up today. Love expressed as knitting is so important, and I am grateful that knitting is an interest I share with my best friend as well.

  44. “Apparently, I wear hand knits as emotional armor.” Well said, Ken. A strong feeling of mine is now put into words so that I can capture it any time I want to.

  45. This made me tear up – mostly because I’m about to start knitting a blanket for my uncle who was just diagnosed with lymphoma. It’s the best way I can show my support and love. (He’s not a knitter.)

  47. Give Ken our Love and support! I’d send woolies if I wasn’t in the middle of a bootie and hat set for a wee one.

  48. Last night I saw my 27-year-old niece for the first time since her dad died last May. She’s an occasional knitter when not busy with school. I was pulling out all my knits for show-and-tell. I gave her the first pair of cloisonee mittens I made this winter. She loved them and can use them in Chicago. It is a wonderful feeling to be able to give a handmade knitted item to someone you love and have them truly appreciate the gift. A very good feeling indeed. As always, thanks for sharing with the rest of us, Stephanie.

  49. Thanks again for coming to the guild! We loved having you and we all knit when we get together, we couldn’t imagine a dinner without a sock or twelve! Glad to see you finshed up the socks, my thoughts and prayers for your friend as he grieves. -Kate

  53. if it weren’t for the fact that today is my birthday and i am so full of happiness from all the love I’ve received, i would be crying from this super touching story. And Stephanie, you have the best way of writing it 🙂

  55. I love the last line of your post – “Knitting is still the best container I know for love – especially when you give it to another knitter.”
    It says it all….

  58. It isn’t quite the same, but I have a person who sews me smocky aprons with big pockets for my cd player and sock yarn. I love my aprons.

  59. Yes, knitting is the best container–especially knitted socks, because they wrap up humble feet. And holy crap on a cracker–you knit fast.

  62. My sincere condolences to Ken on his loss and to you by extension, after all Ken is as good as family. We just lost one of my nieces and one of the things that got me through was a sweater I wore which was purple, her favorite color. I only have two regrets, and one of them is that I never got around to the cashmere cowl I was going to make her lat Xmas. Have the yarn, now missing the girl, terribly.

  63. You made me cry. My condolences to Ken on his loss. Portable love. That’s why I knit a sweater that does far more travelling than I do, keeping a dear friend warm.

  64. Wow…wonderful love at the perfect time. As I read I was hoping you would keep going and gift them unfinished. I felt warm just reading.

  65. I’m going to send this link to all my nieces and nephews. My kids get it, my grandkids get it. My nieces and nephews aren’t convinced… I think they’d rather have Wally World gift cards. (My kids have started angling now for next year’s Christmas sweaters…)
    “Portable love” I like that. My sympathy to Ken on his loss.

  67. I love that!
    “Knitting is still the best container I know for love…”
    I want to put that on my Facebook page and credit you,amazing YH, of course

  69. I agree 1000% and only wish that I could knit as quickly as you do–my portable love objects are given usually a month after the fact.

  70. I am not a knitter, but I completely get it. Having something with you, created by someone you love and who loves you, is the best defense against a cold world.

  72. Gosh, where to start? I’ve kind of switched places with you. I lost my Dad 3 weeks ago. I’m knitting (ugh-never enough light) black socks to give my sister-in-law for letting me stay at her house during my Dad’s last days. Busy hands, sorrowing heart. ( She will owe me for new glasses after I finish!)
    Condolences to Ken. I know.

  75. What a wonderful way to express the making of something for someone else. Thank you so much for sharing this story. It warms my heart. I wish I had a knitter friend such as you. And… deepest condolences to Ken.

  77. What a beautiful blog! Exactly described why I give handmade gifts. Thanks for expressing it better than I ever could have.

  80. As Ken knits too, he surely appreciates how much caring and love go into a hand-knitted gift. No wonder he wears them as “emotional armor”. Perhaps, by wearing something you made for him, he felt like you were there with him in spirit, if not in person.
    Please pass along my condolences to Ken.

  82. Wow, I have just realized that I have no handknits that I haven’t made myself. Because I knit, nobody gifts me with knitted items (crafty items, yes; knitted, no). And because my friends knit, I don’t bestow knitted items on them. I will have to do something about that this year.

  83. Just think how much further ahead you would have been without stopping to take all the pictures!

  84. I love that voice. I’m so glad you kept following. ‘portable love’ indeed. 🙂

  87. You’ve allowed us to know Ken a bit through your writings and from what I’ve read, he is a dear man. Please give him an extra hug from this knitter and reader in the Chicago area. Peace and comfort, Ken.

  88. Hi:)
    i got an email with this heading:
    : Re:Yarn Harlot: Snap Hot-Seller Accessories for iPhone5 from China Lightning
    I dont know if anyone else got this but
    i thot it was weird.
    if you want to acknowledge this
    email me @: iwaly444@aol.com
    peace&blessing

  89. Love that…that always remember why I would only knit for my family members — to swathe them with love!

  90. I always tell my friends and family that socks are 35,000 stitches of love, and it sounds like Ken needed them.
    Please pass on condolences to him for me? Reading your blog for the last 6 or 7 years (and his too, back when) has left me with the impression that Ken is a pretty exceptional fella.

  92. Wow, it suddenly got really dusty in here. Socks are truly portable love. To Ken, I am sorry for your loss.

  93. Please give Ken our condolences. I know exactly what you mean when you talk about portable love. I recently sent scarves to a niece and 3 nephews that are mostly grown up. I don’t see them very often because they’re busy with college and all the important things you do when you’re that age. My niece said something along those lines when she received her scarf. I also feel that way about quilts or almost anything else that someone made themselves and gave me. Portable love, that’s a wonderful way to look at it!

  94. I held those socks at the talk in Newton! They look great. Thanks for an entertaining and educational evening on Friday

  95. So very sorry to hear of Ken’s loss. What a blessing to have so many people who love him, around at a difficult time (especially ones who know how to send love contained by wool!).

  97. What a great suspense tale! And, beautiful pix! Thanks for the narrative of your Labour of Love…
    and never forget how lucky you are to have an eager recipient of that love and those socks!

  100. I think that’s a perfect way to think of knitting. Considering that the entire time I’m working on a project with an intended recipient, I’m thinking of that person, I think knit items carry a lot of power within them. Power to heal, power to comfort and power to protect. And your instincts were spot-on. You knew Ken would need those things from you, and now you have the embodiment of those things to hand him in a pair of socks 🙂

  102. Beautiful story. The sad thing is that for many of us knitters, no one knits for us. I don’t have a single thing that anyone knitted for me! I guess they think I can do it myself. But in the meantime I will keep showing my love for my family by covering them with wool. Portable love – priceless!

  103. This is, I think, my favourite thing you’ve ever written. So touching, and I’m not the sentimental sort. It’s exactly what knitting is all about. Thanks.

  105. Awesome – this just reinforces my decision to go ahead and detangle the yarn knot that used to be my son’s baby blanket and reknit it for him. Just cuz he asked me to. Even though I could buy new yarn for a very reasonable price. It wouldn’t be the same.
    Emergency socks — next on the list.

  106. Wow. I know you only had 3-4 days, and that you knit fast but it is amazing what happens when we put our minds to things. Love gets built in faster than ever before.

  107. With all the wonderful socks that you make do you ever darn any of them? I am now looking at two pair that I’ve made that now need repairs.

  109. This made me tear up a little bit, because a year ago I realized how much my daughter felt this way about handknits – and this post showed me how part of her incessant requests for knits right now is her desire to arm herself against the next few months: we’re in a time of serious uncertainty and transition, and she’s become old enough to understand and be deeply affected by it, without our adult perspective of knowing that we’ll make it work.
    I need to knit her something for spring, as it’s getting too warm for the vest I made her.

  110. Amen.
    I’m in the middle of an epic (for me) sweater knit for the Iknitarod and I’m knitting yarn I spun from a sheep I lost this past year and there is a similar love in each stitch of that as well.

  113. So true. A dear friend recently miscarried…I found out as my husband was heading out the door for a flight and was going to see her while in the same town for business. I raced upstairs, pulled out a hand knit I had made, but didn’t know why,I put it in his hands and said “GIVE THIS TO HER. IT’S the BEST I can do in terms of a hug from 2000 miles away”.
    The next day I got a text from her. Message received, loud and clear.

  114. I adore this line: “Knitting is still the best container I know for love – especially when you give it to another knitter.”
    I will quote this forever. Thank you.

  115. You are a wonderful friend – an amazing knitter – and we all Love Ken and wish him a whole hearted warm fuzzy hug from “the Blog” during this difficult time. (Also a belated happy birthday)

  116. I loved this story! It inspired me to finish a sweater I started many months ago. I think it’s better to follow the voice and keep knitting than stopping and starting on something. The process is so joyful, but the finished object has so much energy wrapped into it. And it gets rid of the guilt of not finishing.

  119. As always – a gem of a knitting story. Delightful! You inspire me to knit when other things can get in the way.

  120. My knitting is what kept me sane during my husbands bout with cancer last year. I knit while watching him sleep, just to make sure he was still breathing. I knit at the doctor’s office, while sitting through hours of chemo, while he was in the hospital for his bone marrow transplant, and I knit sitting next to him today, cancer-free! If I didn’t have my knitting, I don’t know what I would have done. Over the past 23 years, I have offered to knit him socks many times and he has always refused my offer. He does, however, find great comfort in seeing me knit beside him. Thank you for your story. The pictures were great!

  121. The very act of knitting is therapy for me as well. It got me through the unexpected death of my Mother, almost 5 years ago. It is cheaper than medicine. I just wish I could take my yarn deduction off my taxes! Heh heh.

  122. I knit a peach colored lace shawl of bamboo &silk for a good friend when she had cancer. When she died i thought it would come back to me as a special memory-her husband &teenage son not having much use for a lacy peach shawl.i thought that right up until i saw it wrapped around her husbands shouldrrs the day after she died. Her son smiled@me & said you cant have it. It smells like mom. They took turns wearing it. A hug from both of us.

  124. Thank you. I needed a story like this today.
    Thanks to Ken for stating so well the idea of wearing “hand knits as emotional armour.”

  125. Like a lot of things this year, this touched me and reminded me of my Grandmother, who we lost just a couple of years before Christmas. She was a crafter and when I gave her something I had knitted for her, she would ALWAYS say, “Boy, your knitting is really coming along!”
    It was so sad when no one was there to say that this year.

  127. Oh, Stephanie. I just responded to the final paragraph with an audible ohhhhh… (insert the inflection of a sigh).
    You nailed it. I feel gifted with your words (and sentiment).
    Thank you.
    LynnH

  128. Dang it. This post made me cry. I understand knitwear as emotional armor.
    I’ve also noticed that the only time I dream of flying I’m wearing a handknit silk shawl.

  129. That made me smile and well up at the same time. The last sentence has never occurred to me, but is so very true. I am a slow crafter and ocassionally give handmade things (socks, a scarf, s stitched wallhangimg…) to people who I think might like them,and who I care about; but pretty much no one I know “makes things” so I only have my own handknits. I read your sentence and it hit me how true it is. Sometimes you need to wrap yourself up in somebody else’s love for you.

  130. I’d almost forgotten about being wrapped in love. I need to wrap someone. Now. I guess I’ll knit fast.

  131. I am totally with Ken, my father passed away Friday morning, I had an 11 hour car trip ahead of me, knitting was packed, I didn’t get much accomplished, but it felt good to knit in the car through the prairies, while visiting with family & drinking a glass of wine. I wore my knitted hat, scarf & mittens in the bitter southern Sask wind & snow. My brother borrowed my purple hat to work on his truck because he had forgotten his. Driving home yesterday, my birthday, yes, wrapped in love.

  133. I am knitting socks at the moment, love it.
    I exchange some of my knitting time to read your latest book. Can’t wait to finish reading it, have my knitting time back.
    It is a very interesting book n make me laugh all the time, can’t belive we have same feeling about knitting and how the outside world not really understand

  134. Awww see there was something telling u that even though u were away u needed to make those socks. Its the love that went into them that would be needed.
    I so want to learn to make socks so I can give them to my hubby.

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