I've never been very crafty. When I worked at summer camp, I avoided crafts like the plague, preferring to lead capture the flag, soccer, broom hockey and other activities that involved running around like crazy and working up a sweat. I think I was the only person on staff who never learned how to make a dream catcher — I figured that if I didn’t know how to make them, nobody could force me to teach campers how to make them. For the most part, this strategy worked. “Oh, I don’t know how to make dream catchers,” I remember saying on one occasion. “I’m going to go swimming. But I’m sure someone else would be happy to help you out."
So it came as something of a surprise to me when I decided that I wanted to learn to knit. In the past, I’d only made fun of knitting. At camp, we used to have a surprise skit night, and just for kicks we’d tell the campers that they were going to learn to knit, because who could think of a less fun evening activity than that? “It’s knitting night,” we’d tell them, as the boys howled in outrage and screamed, “I don’t want to learn to knit!” “We want you to go back to your cabins and draw a picture of something you’d like to knit. In a half hour, we’ll meet you down at the beach, where we’ll distribute the needles and string.”
While the kids were in their cabins, grumbling and moaning about this horrible injustice, we put on our costumes and hid in the woods. Soon we’d hear the campers, singing as they marched down the trail, and when they came into view we’d turn on some music — “Jungle Boogie,” by Kool and the Gang — and intercept them. “Knitting night is canceled!” we would yell, and a great cheer would arise from the crowd. “We’re doing skits, instead!” We’d send the kids back to their cabins to create skits, but not before we’d collected their drawings and had a good laugh. “Hey, look,” we’d say. “Nick wanted to knit a sweater for his brother.” “Hey, look. Beth wanted to knit a scarf.” None of us knew how to knit, and we thought the whole thing was a hoot.
In any case, I’d never even thought about learning to knit before and, had I not been invited to a monthly knitting night this weekend, it might never had occurred to me. “I don’t know how to knit,” I said. I was assured that this didn’t matter, that I could just hang out, or do crossword puzzles, or whatever, but then I thought, “Or maybe I could learn to knit.” This is how most of my ideas come to me — a friend makes a suggestion, and it percolates in my mind, and then I decide to do it. At the very least, I figured knitting would give me something to do while watching sports.
Anyway, it was a struggle at first, learning to knit. I couldn’t even understand what I was trying to do, and it brought back memories of learning to tie my shoes in kindergarten. But eventually, with guidance from a patient friend, I figured out how to make a stitch. “Well,” I said, after stitching my first row. “I’ve mastered this craft.” By the end of the evening I had knit a small gray square about the size of a drink coaster. “I think I’ll give this to my mother for Christmas,” I said. “I’ll tell her it’s a miniature prayer shawl.” “You could put a worry stone in it,” someone suggested. Since I hate Christmas shopping, this seemed like a great idea. Miniature prayer shawls with worry stones! I could make them for everyone in my family.
I came to my senses this morning. I’m still committed to learning to knit, but I’ll be making something other than a miniature prayer shawl.
More great stuff at the sanctuary
I’ve been mentioning the Sanctuary for Independent Media in Troy a lot lately, but they’ve had a pretty interesting line-up, and I keep going there to see and do things. On Saturday I caught free jazz saxophonist Ras Moshe and his quartet.
The Sanctuary specializes in bringing challenging, avant-garde jazz to the Capital Region, and this show was no exception. (In the past I’ve seen jazz violinists Billy Bang and Jason Kao Hwang there). I went with my friend Bruce, who accompanied me to EMPAC a few weeks ago to see the Array Ensemble, a chamber music ensemble that Bruce described as the slowest music he’d ever heard in his life. Ras Moshe was pretty much the opposite of the Array Ensemble, a non-stop sonic assault that was invigorating, stimulating and also a little exhausting. “Boy, we go from one extreme to the other, don’t we?” said Bruce, while we caught our breath during the brief break between sets.
Every musician was outstanding, with guitarist Tor Snyder a particular standout, and although some listeners might feel like all these guys were doing was making noise and whaling on their instruments, there was really a lot more going on than all that. I don’t pretend to understand jazz, but I think it’s pretty cool, and at the end of the show, when Bruce proclaimed Ras Moshe “the real deal,” I nodded my head in agreement. (You can find Ras Moshe’s MySpace page here.)
I picked up a Ras Moshe CD at the show, and listened to it at home this morning while I was getting ready for work. While I was showering, I forgot it was on, and when I stepped out of the shower the screeching from the living room made me wonder if my cats were trying to kill each other. “Good god, what’s the matter with them?” I muttered. Then I remembered. “Oh, that’s just the music,” I said. Yup. That’s what the real deal sounds like. But seriously, you should check him out.
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