Who would want to rescue yarn, of all things?

Who would want to rescue yarn, of all things?
Hi. My name is Cindy and I rescue yarn. Not just the pretty yarn, not just the fancy yarn, but ALL the yarn. Give me your tired, your poor, your eyelash and glittery. I know each yarn has a destiny and somehow, gosh darnit, I am going to find it.

What weird thing to do, you might think. I think so too. This whole yarn rescuer business came about when I joined a local knit group (Needle Nutz on Ravelry, if you are the ravelling type). One lady in the group started emailing with me and we got to know each other better. She asked me one time if I am a "yarn snob." Yarn snob? What is that?

I learned that there are some folks who only want to work with the best. They want merino, cashmere, mohair, alpaca, and llama. For these folks - and I am not passing judgement on them one whit - for these folks the idea of working with Red Heart Super Saver sends a shiver down their spines worse than waking up and finding a spider on their upper lip.

Yarn snobbery. What a foreign concept, I replied to her email. I have used miles of RHSS and found it to be just fine. What could be wrong with it? It is cheap, durable, comes in a lot of colors, etc. So I had to learn more about this whole yarn snob business...mainly so I could find out what constituted the opposite. Because friends, whatever the opposite of a yarn snob is, that is what I am.

Once you start knitting, or just reading knit blogs, you hear people start talking about their "stash". And "stash" is a funny way to describe it, because it sounds like something a druggie would have. It sounds illicit, dangerous, and sexy. Hey man, wanna see my stash? No man, I gotta stash of my own at home.

So this lady I made friends with...she has a stash. Her stash is to my stash as a twelve course gourmet meal is to the chicken-and-mushroom-soup casserole your favorite grandma makes. It doesn't even compare...although both are damned good. This lady, we'll call her Dana, is a knitter but she is also a yarn collector. She wants to lust after the most beautiful, the rarest, the finest. And then she wants it in all the available colors just to say the set is complete.

Now my stash, on the other hand, is a great jumble of unlabelled skeins and half-skeins that lives in my craft room. Some of that yarn is OLD. Some of that yarn has outlived it's original owner by decades. How do I know this? Because I have googled some of the brand names and found them in the depths of history. "Gold Medal Yarn Company" was registered in 1948, and pattern booklets for "Raphael Brand Gimp" come from the 1930's. That's some old yarn.

How do I get this old yarn and what do I do with it? I get it from all the places that old yarn hangs out...garage sales, thrift shops, unsolicited donations from someone who knows I like to knit. It comes in balls, skeins, and on one memorable occasion...garbage bags. Where does it go when I am done with it? Through the magic of knitting I transform that obnoxious mauve, loud turquoise, baby poo green, or dingy grey into warm functional and attractive items. Hats, scarves, mittens, etc leave my house and go to the local charities for distribution in the colder months. Some of it is destined to become afghan squares for Warm Up America, some of it goes to cancer patients at the hospital where a friend works. Every time some knitted object leaves my house, I consider that I have added value to the original yarn.

Every yarn has its destiny, is what I tried to tell Dana. Even though you look at that eyeball-scorching neon orange and think it's horrible, I know that if I throw it into my spare ball bin, eventually it will snuggle up to some other yarn, maybe a creamy white, that will inspire me to make a brightly patterned pair of mittens that will tickle a little girl's fancy. And while I know that scratchy bunch of brown OLEFIN would make a horrible scarf...it could be perfect for some indestructible dish scrubbies in a way your Malabrigo just couldn't.

So, I told Dana, while groping for just the right word...I am not a yarn snob. I am a Yarn Rescuer. Somewhere out there is a family whose grandmother passed away and left a basement full of multicolored acrylic. I just wish they had my phone number.