Fall Back

Somethimes we fall back on somethinkg our mother taught us in the strangest places with the strangest people. My mother taught me to knit. We sat together my first Holiday home from Carleton College. Everyone was knitting in Minnesota. Today this skill is one of my varied pleasures. Returning by January ---knit one, purl one was beating in my heart.
My favorite place to knit is on the MTA city bus. Tho one winter I knitted every weekend while traveling on the Miramar Ski Club bus to Vermont. The twenty-five knitted ski headbands were auctioned for a Waitsfield charity. In addition to headbands there were nose warmers and ear brasieres.
Knitting on the city bus is such a lark. As soon as boarding the bus I choose a window seat. Driver side going downtown in the mornings, driver side coming uptown in the evenings. The sunny side of the bus has the best light. This light is actually better than any lighted seat in my microscopic studio apartment on Manhattan's west side.
Usually I work on round needles but today's scarf project with two colors requires double pointed straight needles. Once seated my needles are gently picked up with the attached three meters of scarf in process. Frequently the scarf or the yarn or the needles need to be turned in a certain order to untangle. Then the stitching comences:knit one, purl one;knit one purl one. My eyes may linger on my knitting while my mind quietly slips out of town.
Other passengers on the city bus secretly stare as if watching my knitting was a performance of magic. Knitting is quite a magical trick. How can you turn a string so long and lean into a sweater so bulky and warm. It is magic!
It is best to sit alone in a double seat for one needs elbos room to perform magic. Once on a crowded M23 articulated crosstown bus a swarthy gentlemen sat next to me. The two balls of yarn and the scarf were in a terrible tangle while my stitches were in the middle of a row. Holding the double pointed needles in two hands it is easy not to drop stitches. But keeping the two colors on the right side of the scarf, on the right side of the needle for the knit or for the purl is a challenge.
Suddenly the yarn stopped pulling. The next stitch was impossible withourt a feed from the new color. The gentlemen sitting next to me was oblivious to my problem until I handed him the small ball of the new color yarn. When he took it; he looked at me. Then carefully he started to unwrap the two tangled yarns. It took him a few minutes as the bus rambled across 23rd street in rush hour traffic. His hands were soft and agile as his fingers cleared each section. "How did you know to do that?" "My mom taught me," he said.