Historic Fibers

The World According to Louisa May Alcott

When I was growing up, my favorite book was Alcott’s “Little Women.” I read the book so many times I had it practically memorized, and for some reason I was fairly certain that it contained great truths about life and the best way to get on in the world. Of course, the fact that I was relying on a Victorian-era novel to explain the mid and late twentieth century means that I grew up with some pretty skewed ideas about the way some things should work, but oddly enough some of her ideas were still pertinent all those years later. Things that did not translate well to my life experience included such edicts as girls and women should not run in public, one should always stuff negative emotions and expressing them is wicked, and marriage and motherhood are the truest and best expressions of womanliness, not to mention the best ways to be happy in the world. 

But Louisa May’s Life Lessons also included some things that were really helpful in my life. For example, “Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” is possibly just as true today. And also, Alcott’s characters fairly regularly responded to blue moods by going out and doing something useful for somebody else, and I have indeed found this to be a successful way to deal with the blahs. It’s hard to be unhappy when you’ve just done something nice for someone else. 

I got my chance to Louise-ify my life when a friend asked me to fix a cherished blanket made by an elderly relative many years ago. There was a split in the afghan, and she hadn’t a clue how to fix it. Of course I was happy to help, and she brought it out for me to evaluate. My heart sank when I saw it was crocheted rather than knit, since I know little about fixing crochet. It was also acrylic, and I knew I didn’t have any yarn that would match. But determined I was and persist I did.

 I took the afghan to the local Joann’s and found, miracle of miracles, the elderly auntie had used the very cheapest Red Heart Super Saver yarn (bless her heart), and they still made the same colors. I bought about 10 pounds of yarn for less than $5, and hauled the whole lot home.

 

 

I spent some time perusing the Internet looking for instructions for fixing crochet, and came away with a deep appreciation for the technical expertise and knowledge base available to knitters, because there was just about nothing of any use on fixing crochet that I could see. I determined that the very best way to fix the blanket would have been to take out part of one row and re-crochet it, which frankly wasn’t going to happen. So I then decided that the second best way to fix it was to thread a tapestry needle and mattress stitch it together, making sure to catch the loose loops of yarn and secure them within the stitches.

So with much tugging and cursing, I stitched the split together, noting with still more cursing that the pattern had gotten wonky in the process and I had more fabric left on one side than the other which would have caused a rather noticeable pucker. I ripped out my stitches, and started again, paying close attention to the pattern and making sure I was sewing the right stitches together.

Success! The second time worked out pretty well. The pattern is still a little bit skewed, but the afghan was rescued from further damage with a good sturdy seam. My friend was delighted, and I’m sure her elderly auntie was looking down on us benevolently for our efforts in preserving her work. Louisa May Alcott would also have approved, I’m sure, because she knew, as many people still know today, that a stitch in time saves nine.

Where I've Been

You know what I love about blogging? When you go silent for a while, people notice. They start sending concerned little messages asking if you're okay, and it makes me feel like someone outside of my immediate circle is paying attention and cares. So thanks for being there and caring.

I have been swamped with the grading for the three very full U.S. History classes I've been teaching, and that combined with the death of a friend due to breast cancer sent me into a bit of an existential crisis for a couple of months. The friend was on her fourth recurrence of breast cancer, and she had beaten the other three so we were all fairly optimistic. But this time it metastasized, and that's all she wrote. My friend had covered my classes last year when I was in Dublin and London, which was almost exactly a year ago, so this time of year reminded me of her to begin with. But then when I heard she had finally succumbed to an illness that she has spent the better part of her adult life fighting, it really hit home.

I hate being cliche, but when a friend dies (or anyone close to you really) it does have a tendency to make you reevaluate. The point is driven home that it really can all end in a heartbeat, and I started asking myself if I was really doing what I wanted to be doing with whatever time I have here on earth. And this coming on the heels of spending weeks dealing with grading term papers and midterms and all the accompanying student drama did leave me feeling somewhat dissatisfied. "I spent ten years studying for this?" I asked Dan repeatedly. He would smile sympathetically, but what can you say?

The knitting that usually comforts me through all crisis wasn't working for me. I had a number of ongoing projects from my Summer of Stockinette that were, quite frankly, boring. And none of them were close to being finished. I have been dyeing and spinning, but they aren't the kind of thing that I can do at the end of a day to wind down.

And I would love to give you a fairytale ending here - to talk about how I had a fiber epiphany and it changed my life, or I had a heartwarming moment with a student that made it all feel worthwhile. But I didn't. I'm ploughing through my stockinette and preparing to face the final round of grading, and looking forward to the winter break. I'm walking and cycling and doing yoga and breathing deeply and basically riding it out. Because the one thing I know about life is that this too shall pass, and if I hang in there and remain true to myself, I will come out in a happier place than I started. What more can any of us ask?