Tradtions

It was the blue, it was the blue.

The one thing I didn't say yesterday was that the weather was most definitely fall, no pretensions of late summer.  I wore the blue sweater and was very glad of it.  I even considered wearing the Freyja for its warmth.  

I knit another Bride's Memory Bag, this time in a pure environmentally smart Eco Silk from Diamond Yarns.  It turned out really nicely, though without beads  (It was hard to match the colour of natural silk.).  The bag could have used a good blocking at the end, it had a wee biasing problem, but there was no time.  I added a note to the card about the bag, and gave it to the couple.

The bride's family are a strongly traditional family.  There were bits of their traditions scattered through the day.  It was mostly nice, but all the things that are not good about adhering to traditions were there too. 

There were knitters in the crowd among the Bride's family members, I am certain. Her grandmother came over to introduce herself, in a funny way. She did not say a thing, did not ask, but my heavens, if looks could kill (maybe mortally wound is the more appropriate level) My knitting was disapproved of. It was intense. Had she asked about it and still requested I stop, I would have. I admit that I would have been bereft, though. Through the evening I heard a comment or two in passing and one of the bride's cousins asked me about the bag as I was finishing.  I was happy to explain it, (she thought it sweet) but other than one person, no one asked.  

When I took it to put it with the other gifts, along with the card and our gift, the bride happened to be standing near.  Frowned upon again and consigned as ' some old socks'.  Sigh. I hope she at least reads what I wrote about the wee bag in the card.    

I like traditional things.  I like old things and old ways.  But without adding new, without adding something of ourselves, traditions are just an empty shell.  The good kind of traditions are a living growing things.  

The Bride's bag is a new tradition. It is mine, to my nieces and nephews.  It is meant to wish them well, to be a reminder when they see it tucked away in a drawer years from now, of all the joy people felt as they came together.  I don't mind their not understanding the why of this small personal tradition.  As far as traditions go it has only been around a few years.  

What I would mind is if they don't accept the different,  don't read the card, don't quest for understanding, don't ask.  I mind about that a lot.

Under circumstances where you felt your knitting was disapproved of by some, but under the veil of 'civility' (the false kind, in my view) but no one asked why, or requested you to stop, would you have stopped?