Please Put Down Your Knitting Because I'm Cute!
Rosie Grier is the kind of man who commands respect without saying a word. One glance at Grier, a member of the L.A. Rams’ Fearsome Foursome and one of the NFL’s most feared defensive linemen throughout the 1960s, and you know he has the power to kill you without breaking a sweat. You’d figure he isn’t a guy you’d want to sass.
Perhaps it was Grier’s imposing physical stature that gave him the self-confidence and social courage he needed to pursue his interest in and to master an art that my second grade teacher, the feared and beloved Mrs. Viskil, was unable to cultivate in my head—the refined art of knitting.
One day early in the school year when the weather kept us from taking recess on the playground, Mrs. Viskil announced that the entire class was going to learn to knit. Girls and boys alike, we were going to knit.
Many of the boys loudly protested that only giiirrrrlllls knit, and vociferously pleaded that they were neither giiirrrrlllls nor sissies! What greater mortification could be visited upon them than to be forcibly compelled to knit in public, right there in front of everybody?
The boys’ whines and protruding lower lips quickly disappeared once Mrs. Viskil explained that knitting was, indeed, a manly activity. In fact, she told them, knitting was an art invented by men who were rugged shepherds and ocean going fishermen. Even some fighter pilots, she told them, knit socks, sweaters, and other useful items.
Knitting, she told them, provided these manly men with a useful activity to occupy their minds during quiet, boring times. It helped keep their fingers and minds supple and relieved tension. So manly was this knitting, according to Mrs. Viskil, that I expected to hear that John Wayne obsessively knitted during breaks while filming his cowboy classics.
Myself, I really wanted to knit, and I expected that the art would come easier to me than most, certainly easier than it would to the boys. I thought I had an ace in the hole because, thanks to my grandmother Littleday, I already knew how to crochet. I was wrong.
I’m gonna let you in on a secret. Knitting and crochet aren’t the same thing at all. Nothing I knew about crochet needles translated well to knitting needles. No matter how I tried, my fingers just couldn’t be made to do right. As far as I remember, all the boys in the class did admirably. No one did as poorly as me.
I don’t know if Harold, Danny, Judd or any of the other boys from that class still knit on the sly. I like to think that they do. I’m hoping that some one of them is reaping the benefits of the lessons I simply could not absorb, the skills I could not master. If they are, they can count themselves among good company. Shepherds, ocean going fishermen, fighter pilots and even scary professional football players knit. Sadly, some giiirrrrlllls do not.
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
This makes two of us! My Grandmother tried to teach me crocheting and knitting and I can still do a decent chain stitch if I have to but knitting??? Forget it!!!
On the other hand, I would LOVE to see Cas and Prentice trying to knit!!
Knitting is not for me! If there are guys out there who can do it they can have my knitting needles.