The question I chose for this installment of 52 Stories is:

What is something you taught yourself to do without help from anyone else?


I claim knitting as the answer to this, even though nothing much happens in a vacuum, so I definitely had some help, but I have always been an independent learner. My memory of crafting and needle arts is that I learned first how to crochet and sew. I even learned to weave. In all cases, I had one or two lessons with a grownup, then mucked about on my own until I mastered the thing.  Then came knitting. I remember one lesson at a church activity when I was around 10 or 11. I was instantly fascinated, but we never had another lesson, so I was left to explore and figure out the rest of the mystery of knitting all on my own. I remember looking at books, at actual sweaters, and at photographs. My local library had some knitting magazines, and my grandmother had a ton of yarn (she lived with us during my teen years), and so for some reason, I never went to the local yarn shop that was just a few miles from my house. I don’t really even remember shopping for yarn or other supplies, because I found things in the house. 

I didn’t go to a yarn shop until I was 19. The rest, as they say, was history. A fascination took root as a consistent hobby and eventually became my work. 

I have this photo as evidence that I knitted as a teen, and at gatherings with other kids. It was taken by someone I grew up with here in Maryland. What can I say, I have always been an introvert. I think I remember being at the lake in Columbia with some kids from church and sitting off by myself with, of all things, some knitting. Look how geeky I am–my red sunglasses are on one of those lanyards that ladies use to hang their reading glasses round their necks. That is so me. And I still love red accessories. It is so interesting to me to see patterns that remain constant as I age. 

Anyway, knitting was then all the things it still is to me now–empowering, endlessly interesting, and something to do that allows me to quietly observe and listen. I seem guarded in this photo,  don’t you think? As if my reverie has been interrupted? I probably show the same expression if you interrupt my knitting today.