Over at one of my favourite blogs, Shauna has urged the celebrating those we know who are still alive, or rather, writing what we might in an obituary so that the person knows just what makes them awesome.
I’m usually not one for memes, but this is one that I’ll give exception to. Sometimes a person in your life deserves to be celebrated. I have at least two I’d like to do.
The first is for someone I’ve not known for nearly long enough, but who deserves this perhaps more than anyone I know. My good friend Mroo, who’ve I mentioned a few times before–receiver of the Crow Prints Shawl, the Knitting Olympics Socks, the armwarmers from hell, and a never-before-seen-on-this-blog finished object. She’ll likely be getting a slew of other things as well, including a charming set of fair isle mitts.
That list alone should prove one of the most wonderful things about Mroo (from a knitting standpoint)–she’s very knit worthy. I can make her something out of non-superwash wool, and know that the object won’t be ruined forever. I know how much she appreciates these gifts (which they almost always are, only the arm warmers were a real commercial endeavour between us), and I know that they’re going to a good home. She appreciates (as much as any non-knitter can*) the skill and time that goes into these objects.
Some of it, I think, is that she’s an artist, an actual one living that particular lifestyle and trying to pay the bills. She’s one of the few people who I sincerely feel deserves to be successful (though I grant it’s because I love her art style). As such, she can appreciate the type of craft that knitting is–not just a set of directions, but a piece that is defined by so many different factors beyond just what the instructions say.
Besides being what I consider a good artist, she’s also got a sense of humour that delights in the punny, the odd, and the slightly ironic ways that life plays out. It’s thanks to her that I have someone to share my puns with, to create sheep emoticons, and otherwise create those rich inside jokes that make you chuckle on some of the darkest of days.
Mroo is one of the best friends that I’ve ever had–she is there for everything. She doesn’t take it personally when something makes me too uncomfortable to talk to her about until months after I’ve dealt with the issue; and she helps with the rest of the problems that like to come in packs. She’ll tell me stuff as honestly (and gracefully) as she can, and for that I’m grateful. It’s an honour that she comes to me when she needs help sometimes too.
She encourages people to reach for their dreams, to create as best they can, and to otherwise not just blindly accept what people say. She’s intelligent, sharply so, but at the same time, she’s extraordinarily modest and humble, so that you never hate her for it.
Mroo showed up my second year of university. It was a (to the outside observer) somewhat awkward meeting, this super-advanced dinner date at the university dining, but it sparked a friendship that makes me always stipulate my “what if”s with “but only if I get to keep the people I met at Drake.” And always, I’m thinking of Mroo when I say it. Few people have been around for so much in such a short span of time. Few people have dealt with me at my best and at my worst.
So, Mroo, thanks for being awesome. Thanks for being around, and I’m so glad that I’ve met you.
* no knitter will ever fully appreciate the ‘charm’ of weaving in fair isle ends, restarting intarsia armwarmers five separate times, the trouble of intarsia in general for me of the stranding persausion, and all those little ‘joys’ that make us ‘love’ knitting.