I learned knitting because I come from a family of needleworkers, though I learned this craft on my own without any prompting from them. I was into puppets when I was young. I was a writer for a children's television show. My mother and my youngest sister, Sylvia, would sew, crochet, and knit my puppet designs for me. Eventually my designs became more and more complicated and became exasperating tasks for them.

One night I picked up a how-to book on knitting and followed the instructions using two ballpoint pens and a piece of string. I discovered that I could knit and purl! I asked my sisters for knitting equipment they no longer wanted. I proceeded to knit scarves for my relatives and co-workers, then moved on to reading patterns and knitting sweaters.

My advantage was, when I had questions, my mother and my sisters were there to answer them.

It was fun following all kinds of knitting patterns, including those for gloves, socks, and stuffed toys. I amassed an entire cabinetful of knitting books and magazines. After five years of that, though, I temporarily lost my passion. SOMETHING WAS LACKING. I afterward realized, it was because I was not satisfied with the idea of knitting other people's patterns and being a slave to them. I was more than a knitter, I was an artist. I was bored with the trite conversation and petty intrigues of invisible knitters in Knitting Chat Rooms. I was challenged to create works of art, among functional works, out of knitting. Only then was my passion for this craft renewed.