First Person
Teaching My Beloved to Knit
“Teach me,” my beloved murmurs, his body pressed close to mine. There is a book in his lap, but he is not reading it. He is watching me knit.
We are madly in love, Michael and me, two middle-aged people who found each other after we were fully formed.
We are both writers, world travelers, lovers of all things New York City.
We share books we read and stories we write; we share our favorite recipes and family secrets.
We do all the New York Times puzzles together, taking turns with who chooses the first word for Wordle, working hard to be Queen Bee, finding the connections in Connections.
But I am the knitter. Every afternoon, while my beloved climbs onto the fire escape of our 411-square foot apartment in Greenwich Village with a book and a cigar, I knit. I put on a British detective show, pick up my needles, and lose myself in knits and purls.
“Teach me how to do it,” he says one silvery afternoon.
“I can’t,” I tell him.
Not because I don’t want to—in truth, the idea of knitting together thrills me—but because I literally can’t teach him, or anyone, to knit.
The first time I tried, I failed. This was back in 2003, a year after my five-year-old daughter Grace had died and I was still deep in the muck of grief, knitting to save my life.
One morning the phone rang and a woman started introducing herself, but she was talking too fast for me to make sense of what she was saying (probably afraid I’d hang up on her since I was known to hang up on people a lot in those dark days). Then I heard her say: “My daughter went to school with Grace.” And I did want to hang up because I didn’t want to hear what she had to say about any of it.
“Please,” she said, slower now. “I lost my little boy this summer and I am losing my mind and someone told me knitting helps you. Please teach me to knit.”
The next thing I knew I was sitting beside another grieving mother, trying not to cry and realizing I could not explain how to knit.
“You just move one stitch from this needle to this one,” I said, which made no sense to her, of course. In other words, she left still not knowing how to knit, but I hope comforted in some way.
Both my kids are left-handed and I couldn’t even teach them to tie their shoes, never mind knit. Which isn’t to say I didn’t try but is to say I failed.
Annabelle learned to knit from a woman sitting next to us on a plane and YouTube videos. And now my beloved was asking me to teach him. What’s a woman in love to do?
On our couch in our tiny apartment, on a bus winding through Cuba, on the screened-in porch of a house on the beach, I tried. Oh! The dropped stitches and crossed stitches and, oddly, added stitches. I tried teaching him with large needles for his large hands, and smaller needles for better control, and round needles because why not? He struggled through failed scarves and hats and Grandma’s dishrags and the cursed 2×2 ribbing.
“Is this a purl?” he’d ask. Or: “Am I doing this right?” Or: “Something looks wrong.” And I’d look up from my own knitting to try to instruct or frog or fix. There was a lot of fixing. His stitches were so tight, so twisted, so split. But that man did not give up. Me? I wanted to give up. How in the world did I knit? What was I actually doing that I couldn’t explain? I have taught hundreds and hundreds of students to write entire novels, but I couldn’t teach one man—my man!—to knit.
Until I heard Arne and Carlos talking about The Easiest Scarf in the World. “This is so easy,” Carlos said. “Very, very easy,” Arne said. “You need to know a knit stitch, that’s it.”
This scarf is knit long ways—knit a row and turn. That’s it. You don’t even weave in the ends; they become the fringe. I gifted Michael some mini skeins, and after only a few mishaps, he was knitting without mistakes. I’d look up from my own knitting and see him there knitting and I would swoon. I have grown dizzy watching this man knead bread and spatchcock a chicken, but there is nothing quite as sexy as watching the man you love knit.
Six months later, he had a finished scarf. A beautiful finished scarf!
Somehow, I’d done what he asked: I taught him to knit. To some, their love is like a red, red rose or a summer’s day. But to me, my love is a man with The Easiest Scarf in the World wrapped jauntily around his neck and a pair of knitting needles tucked in his pocket. In other words, a man who knits.
My children..Waldorf students…learned the rhyme in first grade:
In through the front door,
Circle round the back.
Out through the window.
Off jumps Jack.
If you knit as you say it, it makes sense and 6- year olds knit very successfully. It could work for adults….especially such lovely-sounding motivates men. Good for you for persevering.
My granddaughter had difficulty knitting even with this rhyme. Then one day I saw her watching her dad play a video game. I remembered a rhyme I had seen.
Stab it
Strangle it
Scoop out it’s guts
Toss it off the cliff
The next day she was knitting without mistakes. It has been wonderful!
Ha! I love that!
My eldest taught a volunteer at Jorvik (the Viking museum in York, England) to knit using this rhyme! Then braided her hair for her. My eldest is a very special human being. I taught them to knit English as a child, but they learned Continental from friends online.
Ah, Ruhlman! I first discovered him on the first iteration of “Next Iron Chef” then as a foil to Anthony Bourdain on “No Reservations”(a candidate for “Knit to This”). I have many of his books. First I read “The Making of a Chef”. Anyone who can write 20 pages on consommé should find knitting a piece of cake…or bread as I religiously use his bread recipe/procedure (I loved the app!). I knew of Ann, but did not realize the connection. What marvelous dinner conversations they must have! Thank you for sharing!
I will let him know!
I tried to teach my sister to knit after her beloved husband died. I wanted for her what I had discovered in knitting: the slow rhythm of the work and the captivating creativity that takes you to a happier place—or even just a not-so-sad place. She managed the knit stitch but she never felt the magic. So to quote the Old Chief in the movie Little Big Man, “Sometimes the magic works. Sometimes, it doesn’t.”
I hope she found something that brought her comfort.
This is lovely piece. I really enjoyed reading about how much you love this man. And now he knits! How much better can this get?
I love this. What a romantic story. And I must say here that “The Stolen Child” is a wonderful book! Thank you for your writing.
Thank you, Mary Ann!
So thrilling to see your beloved’s excitement with his scarf. Your post about his journey was most heartwarming.
This is beautiful! I love that he wanted to share a hobby that brings you joy. Thank you so much for sharing
I am about to embark on my first session with a group of high school aged students. None of them have ever knit before. This story gave me courage.
Sending lots of positive thoughts your way ! Hoping that some of them catch the bug
Good luck, Sydney!
One summer, in a rented cabin during an unfortunately rainier week than we had expected, my husband asked me to teach him to knit. We found some yarn at a discount store, variegated shades of blue, and he worked hard to produce a single wobbly looking dishcloth. That was his only knitting experience and he’s still very proud of his never used dishcloth. You did a much better job that I was able to do!
And that’s new blue knitting in his hands! Loved reading this, Anne.
I agree…my husband loves to knit .
This whole story makes me happy–thank you! In my late 60s now, I’m the happiest and most content I’ve been in my life. Life is good. And you’ve given me two things to google: Ruhlman and The Stolen Child. Both going on my reading list!
Thank you!
THAT was a good story!!
What lovely writing, Ann. And what a lovely man! I want more. I’m am heading to the bookstore to find The Knitting Circle and Fly Girl.
I hope you enjoy them!
This is wonderful! A friend who suffers from depression and more wants me to teach her to knit – a project I’m up for but one that also feels daunting. Arne and Carlos’s “easiest scarf in the world” is just the answer. Thanks to you for your sweet story and to those who commented – I’m grateful to you all! This is the perfect way to begin a Monday. Fondly… maja
What a super-cool guy! Everyone is different but he might like viewing The Albanach Knitter podcast. Burly, warm-hearted, a Scottish Baptist minister who knits. For himself, his wife and his daughter . And tries, somewhat unsuccessfully, to teach everyone some Gaelic. I read The Knitting Circle many years ago, Ann, and it has stayed with me all these years.
I am checking out that podcast, Chloe!
Melanie Falick’s book “Kids Knitting” was a huge help to me when I learned to knit as an adult. I never made any of the projects, but the instructions were clear and well illustrated.
My mother was a knitter and subscribed to knitting magazines. As a young girl, I liked looking through them and one time, I read a story of a man who courted his wife by knitting her sweaters. I was over the moon about that story. I still am.
Thanks, Ann for the article and the pictures. Love the colorful scarf!! I’m so glad you found a loving companion!! I taught elementary students to crochet and then later tried to teach them knitting in my school’s after school program. Knitting was harder.
I read The Knitting Circle a long time ago. It may be time for a rereading!!
Blessings to you and future knitting projects for your beloved!!
Thank you!
Tell him that he did a beautiful job!
I will!
This was such a sweet and well-written essay that I had to read the comments, too. Congrats to you, Ann, in finding a great guy and overcoming all of that grief, loss, and heartache.
Absolutely loved this story. Thanks for sharing. Moved very deeply by your happy love story. And your beloved’s beautiful, indeed, scarf. Thank you for sharing.
My grandmother taught me how to knit when I was 5, like learning how to ride a bicycle, you never forget. The hands take over, urge you on whatever else is happening in your life. I knit through all the agony in my 88 years, all the joys, all the waiting for something time. It’s a blessing. The best gift I ever received.
Nice! I have never been able to teach anyone to knit!
Thanks for your lovely story! I am also married to a guy from Cleveland, but so far he’s shown no interest in learning to knit. I have a couple of Michael’s books; now I’ll have to check out some of yours!
I’m currently teaching a classroom of college students to knit for their Art credit. I figured out that they’d enjoy knitting Halloween-themed items to learn shaping with. So they’ve been knitting mini pumpkins and bats.
So far, so good. Moving onto hats soon. They’ll be doing some charity knitting as part of the class.
So cool!
Thank you! I was having a serious meltdown (knee pain/sciatica pain).
Even my PooChon was nervous for me.
I read your article and I knew there was hope for me in the knitting world!
OH MY GOODNESS! Just like that-I felt happy! HAPPY!!!
Again, thank you
Loved this article. I have started (not taught) several friends by showing them the simple knit and purl stitches and then a book on learning to do these. I had each of them knit something simple but appealing such as a baby blanket and a pretty scarf. Both items were on the bias. One had to rip out her project as it was not something that she would wear due to the many mistakes. They both went on to knit other projects. One of the things that I taught both of them was from an old knit shop owner who said we should not call it knitting but ripping. If you are not willing to rip out your errors then knitting is too tedious for you.
I also loved your story about your husband.
What a treat to read. Thanks for the moment of quiet pleasure.