This sock is not disposable

I'm currently learning how to knit socks. The project may have been a bit ambitious for my first attempt at knitting something more complicated than a dishcloth, and my first attempt at knitting anything other than a gauge swatch in probably at least ten years. But I do love a challenge. And learning to knit in the round on multiple double-pointed needles was certainly not boring.

Trying to figure out how to turn the heel from pictures and words on websites, without having anyone to show me in person, was more challenging. And frustrating. I did come pretty close to giving up once. Well, maybe a lot more than once.

But when I finally successfully got the heel turned, I was elated. A couple of days later, when I finally finished the first sock, I had quite a sense of accomplishment. Sure, my first sock has a few mistakes in it. Probably more mistakes than you can count.

There are gaps running along the length of the sock where I didn't pull the yarn tight enough when transitioning between needles. The toe is a little oddly-shaped. The purl stitches in one row don't line up with the ribbing in the next. And there's a strange little spot on the ankle where I somehow managed to twist about 5 stitches completely backwards. My best guess is that I accidentally turned the needle around with those stitches on it while working that row. I'm not sure, but I think I accidentally figured out how to make something like a cable. It actually doesn't look that bad on.

Even with all the mistakes, it's recognizably a sock. And it fits my kids' feet. AJ tried on the completed sock and promptly wanted to wear it all day. She loves it. Both of the other girls clamored to try it on too, and all begged to wear it. That is, of course, very gratifying. But I told them that they at least have to wait until the other sock is finished before they start wearing them.



I think I'm hooked. I've actually already started the next pair--this time a toe-up pattern. But, wait, first I need to make the second sock from the first pair. I guess I can have two pairs going at once. Let's just hope they both get finished. :)

Knitting socks is fun. But it's also a lot of work. And sock yarn is expensive! I think the only way, nowadays, that knitting my own socks would actually save money was if I unraveled old sweaters to get the yarn. There's quite an investment in time and money in making handmade socks.

Some of the sock patterns I've found online have what's called an "afterthought" heel and/or toe. Besides looking cute, the touted benefit to this style of heel and toe is that they're replaceable. When you wear a hole in the heel, you can just rip out the old heel and knit or crochet in a new one.

I've found myself thinking a lot, as I work on knitting socks, about the disposability of clothing nowadays. It used to be that everyone (or at least every female and quite a few males) knew how to mend clothing, darn socks, patch holes, repair broken zippers, and remake clothing that was too worn for repair into something new.

Nowadays, if a sock gets a hole in it, most of us throw it away. Even removing stains and odors from laundry is becoming, for some, a lost art. Sometimes it's easier to just throw it away.

To some extent, there is some sense in deciding it's not worth the time and energy to repair something that can be replaced for far less than the value of the time that would be spent fixing it. But I can't help but feel as though we've lost something.

As a culture, we no longer value and care for most of our possessions the way we once did. Our landfills are cluttered with things that are often still usable or could be repaired or recycled in some way. We spend money lightly on things that were manufactured for pennies in factories by machines, or by humans who struggle to survive on far less than a living wage. When those things lose their shine, we throw them away and buy new ones. There's a constant drive to make things cheaper, while often true quality gets lost. Who cares how long it's going to last, if they're going to get bored and throw it away or replace it with a newer version before it wears out anyway?

I find myself feeling nostalgic for a culture where things represented a personal effort, and some care and skill on someone's part. Where people had far fewer possessions, but valued the few they had much more.

I doubt I'll stop using paper plates or buying cheap things completely. But I might think a little more carefully about how I take care of our possessions, and try not to treat non-disposable things as if they were disposable. I might choose to buy something of quality that someone made with care, instead of just buying the cheapest one. Hopefully I'll choose a little more often to buy things that were made by people who were paid a fair price for their labor.

I definitely plan to learn how to darn handmade socks. After all that work, my hand-knitted socks are going to stay around as long as possible.