Last century, when I was a young and care-free chap, I dated a gentleman named Roy. I met him through my dearest sporty gay friend Doug (he hated when I referred to him as such). They worked together at a large denim jeans manufacturer based in San Francisco. Roy worked with a fellow named Michael, or as he said in his fabulously Northern English accent, “Yu-ung MY-Kul.” Our paths would cross on social occasions and he was someone I knew, but never more deeply than a dinner, or a party, or a concert or a movie out together. Eventually, Roy and I had run our course (and Doug disowned me), and everyone scattered onto their own personal paths in the City by the Bay (or NYC in Roy’s case).
Fast-forward seven or eight years, and a missive from Flickr came to me inquiring whether I was Stephen of Roy by way of Doug. The screenname clearly belonged to Michael, who, wouldn’t you know, just happened to be a knitting fanatic, fiber fiend and sock devotee! Mind you, I didn’t knit way back when, nor was his actively knitting, but the Fates would have it that our lives would converge in a tangle of merino, bamboo and needles.
After failed plans to meet at Stitches (which I never went to and he attended 489 classes), long delayed (my bad) responses to emails about meeting up at my work (where former coworkers of his now work), and the best of intentions, we finally pulled it together on Saturday to go down to Purlescense Yarns to see Cat Bordhi sign her new book (which is earth-shatteringly inventive, by the way). Sadly, I don’t have a picture of him and me to prove we were there! I forgot my camera, and he was kind enough to take a photo of me and Leslie from BMFA sock camp.
No longer shall our banter remain in the comments of other people’s blogs or photostreams! I hope it was the first of many hanging-outs to come. Combining our knitting prowess from both sides of the Bay, we could, nay, shall make our mark on the world… or at least have a good laugh and knit a few rows.