Yarn
Grandma Marie is a founding member
of the Knit-Wits. They turn out hats, sweaters,
scarves, and socks. They turn up for canapes
and cocktails, a little discreet dishing
of those not there, complete with embroidery
but just around the edges, building up
the local gossip row by row. Here’s the thing:
we learn from each other how to make it new.
In storytelling, too, there needs to be
a looping back, complications that only
appear to be tangles. Details are key;
so are color and contrast. Without some
holes, there is nowhere for the attention
to catch hold. But, ladies, let’s remember—
vary that pattern but don’t make it up
out of whole cloth or improbably sticky yarn.
Leslie Schultz
You really do need to pour these memories into a novel, Carolyn! Thanks for sharing some of them here.
I did not know Grandma Marie was officially a Knit Wit/ Thanks for the enjoyable and informative poem. I thought her teaching me knot was another of her keeop the kids quiet strategies like making handmade bread that required complete silence as it rose or it would fall, and making Cherries Jubilee with real alcohol, not lit for lunch dessert, so we’d nod off.
“Yam!” A great title for a poem!
I confess to first misreading the title of this poem as “Yam.” So I was most confused at first. But now, a day late, rereading it, I see why the ball of yarn and the Knit-Wits are at play in your poem. (See eyes rolling back in my head.) I do love the alliteration and imagery of this poem, particularly the first stanza. And, once again, Leslie, you make a connection I hadn’t considered: the intertwining of things in yarn and storytelling. This one will be like sticky yarn on my brain because I love it.
Thank you! A blast from my childhood.
“Knit-Wits” — gonna be smilin’ a long time at that one. 🙂