Uncle Kevin's Socks

I finally finished these giant socks for my Uncle Kevin. I've been working on them off-and-on since about last year at this time. (People often ask me how long it takes to make things and it's hard to say, since I knit a bunch of different things at once, and often stop a project for months, only to pick it up again. )

Kevin is my favorite uncle (even if he is a Republican!). He's a charming and lovable guy. He tells funny, colorful, unpredictable stories with ease, and he has a fine singing voice too. Both of these qualities are enhanced by a few beers, which he does enjoy. At every family gathering he and my dad would get a little buzzed and sing very loud. For some reason this upset their wives, who would try to get them to shut up, but we kids loved it.

I can't hear: "Bye-bye Miss American Pie", "Blue Moon", "Molly Malone", "Sea Cruise" or any Beatle's tune without thinking of him. He gave me my first record albums: the Beatle's Abbey Rd and Sgt. Pepper's, and I listened to them a million times.

He's very Irish, and I love that about him. He's a lifelong local politician and attorney. Also a former judge, so he married my husband and I. He also helped us with the closing on our house, and always gives me legal advice for free. I'm happy to be mature enough now to recognize that he won't be around forever, and I should do something to show him I love him and I appreciate how much he means to me. He's had a bad case of Lyme disease lately, so I worry about him.

When I first tried to learn to knit there was much cursing, ripping back and feeling discouraged, but my uncle was very interested in my progress, and always asked me to knit him some heavy wool "hunting socks" (he doesn't hunt, he just calls them that). He described watching his grandmother knitting such socks for him, and every so often taking a sip of the whiskey she kept in the cabinet.

He kept pestering me about the socks, but back then I wondered if I'd ever learn to knit at all, let alone make socks on 4 double-pointed needles, or "turn a heel". I did want to though. I appreciated that he cared, and didn't just say: "Why don't' you just buy some socks, what's the point of trying to make them?" like the rest of my family did.

"What color should I make them?" I asked. "The color doesn't matter, any color. But really thick socks" he'd say, "made of wool".

As I persisted and was frustrated, and one night, at a certain point I felt my hands guided, as though by another pair of older woman's hands. Was it the hands of my sock-knitting, whiskey-drinking great-grandmother, from Co. Galway, who I never met? Or just developing muscle memory and motor neurons? Who knows? But I like to think it was her, and maybe she taught me so that I could finally make these socks for Uncle Kev. After that, my knitting improved dramatically.

Kevin is over six feet tall and has size 13 feet. These socks are so big they look silly! But I had him measure his feet, so I think they are right. Even if they are a little big, it's not hard to shrink them in the wash.

There is a story my mother always tells about how my uncle came to visit us when my dad was stationed in the Air Force at Waco Tx, and our dog, Rain, a German Shepherd puppy, chewed up his shoes. He had to go home on the plane wearing a pair of my dad's shoes, which were way too small. His heels hung off the back.

He's very skinny too, so I hope I didn't make the calves too big. (I have huge-former-waitress-calves, so I tend to make them on the big side, but he has string bean legs. )

The pattern was from my favorite, and most used knitting book: The Knitter's Handy Book of Patterns by Ann Budd.

The yarn is a strand of gray Icelandic wool from Tongue River Farms (this is awesome yarn BTW, I bought it at the NY Sheep and Wool festival a few years ago, and I liked it so much I bought a bunch more of their yarn this year). and a strand of natural Brown Sheep Nature Spun sport weight held together to get that rag-wool look. They are really, really soft and not scratchy at all.

The idea of making the cuff, heel and toe natural and the rest of the sock gray came from Folk Socks: The History & Techniques of Handknitted Footwear by Nancy Bush. It's a traditional Irish/Scottish/Welsh type color combination. The author describes knitting a pair of socks like this in Wales, and an older man coming up to her and saying "My mother used to knit socks just like that".

I plan to wrap them with a big red satin ribbon and send them soon. I hope he likes them!