The Red Bead Factory

At a job long ago, in a new industry still forging its path, at a company straining to see the forest for the trees, my boss made a quiet declaration. Exhausted from working long hours, he told us he just wanted to work in a bead factory. One that makes only red beads. One size. Five days a week. Punch in. Punch out.

We understood, snickered a bit. Like him, we felt defeated. We were whiplashed by radically shifting work priorities. One minute, heavy workloads threatened to bury us; the next, not having enough work made us fear for our jobs. I couldn’t control these changes and neither could my boss. And the company’s owner was just trying to respond to the continual innovations in our industry—or rumors of them. On the worst days, the red bead factory sounded like a wonderful alternative.

Since the red bead factory wasn’t hiring, I looked elsewhere for uncomplicated, repetitive activities. Eventually I picked up needles and resumed a habit I started when I was very young. That’s right: I started knitting again. Knitting became my "bead factory," the place where I could make something while my mind wandered and reached. It was hugely calming to follow unambiguous instructions and make something pretty.

I picked up sticks--and knit

With two knitting needles and a ball of yarn, I had control. I chose the fiber, color, and pattern. In the beginning, simple was best. Knitting a scarf with only the knit stitch was the ultimate bead-factory zone-out project. You didn't really need a pattern for it. The instructions were: Cast on as many stitches as you want. Knit as many rows as you want—every stitch the same. The scarf is finished when it's long enough. Cast off.

While watching the 9/11 coverage, I knit the longest scarf I’ve ever knit. I couldn’t stop making something in the wake of destruction. I made the scarf, and cooked and baked endlessly.



Products from my "bead factory"

How you knit gloves, socks and tops of hats

I knit for several reasons now and I've graduated from scarves. I can knit cables because my mother showed me how, and I can knit colorful fair isle patterns on hats and sweaters. I'm quite knit-pattern fluent; I can read P3, C4FP, p2, k6, C4BP, p3 and totally get it.

The industry eventually paved its path. My future jobs were vast improvements on the one described here. And I keep knitting and finding other ways to let my mind wander and reach. I hope you find your own way to do the same.

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BTW: After my post last week about our gray winters, I feel obliged to show you the stunning blue sky here today:



November 1, 2011