It runs in the family

Am I allowed to showcase something I didn’t make myself? It’s my blog, so I guess I can do whatever I want! I’m back at work now after my parental leave, and I’ve had a lot less time this week to work on my own crafts (or to write!). Last week my aunt, inspired by this blog, mailed me a hand knit family heirloom. So this week I’m sharing with you something made by my Grandma Sylvia (aka “Chippy”), and originally worn by my Grandpa David.

I’m told that my Grandma was an accomplished and prolific knitter, though to be honest I don’t ever remember seeing her knit. I guess when we spent time together we were too busy playing on the Cape Cod beaches near her house, eating ice cream, telling stories, doing cross word puzzles or reading together. She’s the only one of my grandparents that I really got to have a relationship with (the others all died when I was very young). Grandma lived until my mid 20s, and we were close, though I wish we’d gotten to spend more time together over the years. And I deeply wish we’d gotten to bond over knitting, but I didn’t start knitting seriously until after she’d passed.

I love this detailing around the neck, it looks like an embroidery stitch in a contrasting blue yarn

I know I’ve seen items she’s knit before, but looking at this sweater now with a knitters eye, I appreciate for the first time just how skilled she was! This pattern was accomplished with stranded colorwork (also called “fair isle” knitting). It’s one of my favorite techniques, and one I use often. But what’s really impressive is just how fine this work is. From what I can tell, this is sock weight wool yarn and she must have used tiny needles, probably size 3. And it’s perfect. The tension is consistent, the pattern is flawless, I can’t find a single mistake! I could do this pattern, but it’d be a long and tedious challenge, and undoubtedly would have errors!

Unfortunately there’s a few little tears and mouth holes, at some point I’ll need to make a project of figuring out how to repair it!

Grandma would have been thrilled to see me knit, to sit side by side knitting with me and telling me stories from her youth over and over while the yarn unwinds. And I think she would have smiled to see me wear this particular little sweater vest, though she wouldn’t really have understood why I often dress in masculine-coded. When I first came out as queer in college, she used to argue with me, saying that I shouldn’t use the word “queer” because “there is absolutely nothing wrong with being bisexual and you shouldn’t insult yourself that way”! She couldn’t quite wrap her head around my generation “reclaiming” a word that to her mind was a slur, but she was thrilled to meet my first girlfriend when she came to see me in a play in college. When she died, I was just starting to self ID as trans, and I wasn’t out yet. I remember bickering with my dad, because he wanted me to wear a dress to her funeral. I said “grandma supported me as queer, she would want me to wear what feels right” — my dad conceded and I wore a suit.

Here’s me and Grandma Sylvia together, on my college campus, back when I presented much more femme.
Another pic of me and Grandma in my college days, I had to include this one because I think that scarf is the very first thing I ever knit! Green and black were my team colors when I played rugby in college, this pic was taken at a rugby game.

Similarly, I don’t think she would have quite understood what knitting means to me. I find it so powerful, as a queer, trans masc, neurodivergent weirdo, to reclaim this art form. In my grandmother’s youth, knitting was a pragmatic skill that all women were to some extent expected to learn, and I’m quite sure that the second wave feminists of my mother’s generation considered outdated and antifeminist.

Caitlin says I look like a dapper old grandpa in this sweater vest, which I find quite appropriate!
It’s a little loose in the armpits but actually mostly fits me.

To me, practicing fiber arts holds much of the same meaning as reclaiming the word “queer”! It’s no longer a popular pasttime for cishet women in mainstream culture, and almost everyone I know in my generation who knits is some combination of queer/ neurodivergent/ geek. It’s powerful and subversive, defiant in its quaint unexpected reclamation. The social norms change over the years and yet a thread binds is through the generations. And Grandma might not have understood, but she would have loved to knit with me while I tried to explain it to her.

Your obligatory baby photos on this post span 70 years and 4 generations– this pic is of grandpa David as a young dad with his son, my dad, as a toddler in the mid 1950s
And here’s one of my Grandma Sylvia as a young mom; this baby is my Aunt B, my dad’s big sister
And finally me with baby C!

Baby C’s hebrew name is in honor of my Grandma; her nickname “Chippy” is a common shortening of Tzipporah, the Hebrew name they share. And my toddler, D, has that first initial (and the Hebrew name David) in honor of my grandpa David who once wore this sweater. I don’t know what my kids will think of knitting. I think sometimes these things tend to skip a generation, so maybe they’ll think knitting is is just a weird boring old person hobby. But I hope they still appreciate the legacy from their great-grandparents, from all their ancestors.

  • Project: Grandpa David’s sweater vest, made by Grandma Sylvia
  • Medium: knitting
  • Pattern & material unknown
  • Completed likely sometime in the 60s or 70s

#knitting #showcase #throwback #otherartists

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