By Maryanna Gabriel
“As I get older, I just prefer to knit. ”
It must be all the tizzy with the swearing in of new ministers in parliament. Suddenly politics seems inspiring. I seem to be coming out of a very long period of feeling inured and experiencing enjoyment at what I am hearing. Who would have thought? Enjoying Canadian politics. Am I dreaming?
I was just discussing politics with a group of women I knit with. We meet in a pub and some of us have lunch. We talk. I enjoy that too. I am actually working on a beautiful vintage needlepoint but forgive me, I digress. We were discussing the plight of the Syrian refugees arriving with just the clothes on their back in the Aegean Islands of Greece by the boatloads. I was realizing as I tried to imagine the desperation driving these people, mostly I read, women and children, that I had been inured to this too. I felt ashamed of myself. As I researched more closely I realized that help was far too slow in coming and those that were helping were heavily burdened. I couldn't sleep. We decided we would knit a blanket as a group and send it. "Eight inches of wool isn't enough,"
I said to my friend as we discussed the design. I thought. And I thought. Then I thought some more. What if I ask everyone I know to respond to the call for blankets, scarves, and hats? Then it would be like even more people would be warm in Greece. I thought what if the entire pub started knitting and what if it outflowed to knitters in the street, and knitters in the town, knitters all over the island, and knitters all over the country sending warmth to people emerging from the sea with just the clothes on their back. So far I have pledges for two scarves, some are donating money, and I have knit 5 squares. It feels pretty good. It will all be there for them by Christmas. Suddenly, Canada announced we are reversing our no refugee policy and taking 25,000 people in January. It has been a long time since I have had a sense of pride in my country. That is still three months away. A person could be awfully cold waiting for help. One stitch at a time. Someone, somewhere will know there are people who care. It is a big blanket of warmth.
I was just discussing politics with a group of women I knit with. We meet in a pub and some of us have lunch. We talk. I enjoy that too. I am actually working on a beautiful vintage needlepoint but forgive me, I digress. We were discussing the plight of the Syrian refugees arriving with just the clothes on their back in the Aegean Islands of Greece by the boatloads. I was realizing as I tried to imagine the desperation driving these people, mostly I read, women and children, that I had been inured to this too. I felt ashamed of myself. As I researched more closely I realized that help was far too slow in coming and those that were helping were heavily burdened. I couldn't sleep. We decided we would knit a blanket as a group and send it. "Eight inches of wool isn't enough,"
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| I thought and I thought. |