Related story: In a blanket of security, knitting needles must go

By Bryan Rourke
Journal Staff Writer

I know knitters. I've met them, spoken to them and felt their pain.

They're not what you think. They're friendly folk. Never, I tell you, would they turn their needles on anyone in anger.

Oh, sure we had some tense times in our talks. Doesn't everyone? Voices were raised. Fingers were pointed. But never were knitting needles drawn.

Yet knitters have a right to rage. There's no more knitting on airplanes.

Somehow, so far, they've controlled themselves. They've resisted the urge -- in my company anyway -- to yank yarn off some inchoate scarf, exposing a spine-chilling pliable plastic point, and yell, ``One more step and it's mittens for you, mister!''

These aren't assaultive people. If they were, they really should reconsider their choice of weapons. That's my point.

I tried to indicate that in my article for everyone who stereotypes knitters as hoodlums, as terrorists in training, dropping stitches like nobody's business.

People don't kill people, knitting needles do. That's the airline industry's position. And that's a story.

Here's how I wrote my story: Easily. Writing the story wasn't the challenge; finding it was. Desperation delivered. A deadline loomed. I needed a centerpiece. So I drove. I went to Newport and circled around the city.

I looked at people, and buildings, and whatever else was in my way. I saw an image and had an idea, again and again, in my never-ending, self-administered reporter's Rorschach test. It went something like this.

I saw a restaurant: ``I'm not hungry.''

I saw a mental health center: ``I'm not going back.''

I saw a dress shop: ``Nothing will fit me.''

Well, you get the idea.

I was tapping into the power of free association. As you can tell, it's not always that powerful. But, every once in a while, it pays off.

I saw a knitting shop. I thought knitting needles -- don't ask me why. Nothing new there, I thought.

Then I heard the voices. They were speaking to me. They were on a radio program, NPR I suspected, judging by the complete sentences.

They were speaking to me from September, from after the terrorist attack, returning like a repressed memory. They were telling me about new airport security measures, about new carry-on luggage standards and about the imminent ban on ``any sharp objects.''

The voices faded. I couldn't hear the whole list, but I caught the last item: knitting needles.

Hmmm, I thought. I wondered what ever happened with that. I stopped and asked.

The knitting store owner started nodding her head before I completed my question. Sit down, she said. She acted as though she had been wondering where I had been. She showed me a copy of a Wall Street Journal article on the subject. It was published in October.

Okay, so I'd be better suited at a biannual journal.

Anyway, the rest is easy.

Imagine a knitter. What do you see? Bulging biceps? You're thinking of Rosey Greer. He was a needlepointer, not a knitter.

Try again.

You see a woman, right? She is old and frail and not exactly a formidable figure. She's no Bruce Lee with knitting-needle numchakus.

Unimposing, that's your typical knitter. But, by incredible referral, I didn't find the typical knitter for my article. I found the quintessential one, so good you'd think I made her up: A 74-year-old blind grandmother, with an attitude.

``This is pretty stupid,'' she said. ``I think they're overreacting.''

``This is really annoying,'' she said. ``What am I supposed to do on the plane?''

You could write this article with long or short sentences, in an explanatory or narrative style, straight or comical. It doesn't matter. The style is secondary to the substance.

No more knitting! It poses a public health hazard. Write it any way you want. You should have people's attention, who would want an explanation. Unfortunately, I didn't provide one.

In my slightly silly treatment of the story, I raised one serious point, which wasn't adequately addressed: Why is it that pens, which have metal points, are permitted on planes when knitting needles are not?

I left a message for the security director at Rhode Island's airport, T.F. Green Airport in Warwick. I never received a response and didn't have time to ask anyone else.

But rest assured, we haven't heard the last of this. Just watch. The feds will crack down. Before you know it, people will only be able to purchase knitting needles after a five-day cooling off period.