“The Hidden Dangers of Knitting” by James Barr


It seems as though there’s an ever-growing list of things to be terrified about today. Bad lettuce pops up on a regular basis. Aside from sounding like a rock band, bad lettuce can cause gastronomical issues you’d rather not know about. Recently, I heard you do not want to inhale any of the air from a freshly popped can of tennis balls. Who knew? And, of course, don’t even think about sweeping up mouse feces without wearing an industrial-strength Haz-Mat suit and a Military Grade breathing apparatus.

And now the latest item to keep you up at night is knitting. Yes, knitting. Once known as a quiet, relaxed, almost Zen-like activity enjoyed by Barry Manilow listeners, knitting has created more hats, mittens and scarves than any one family could possibly use. It has apparently now moved toward the top of activities to be wary of. When I last looked, it was right behind cliff diving.

Of course, you don’t have to be told to stay away from some lunatic waving knitting needles around in an elevator or subway. But in an entire lifetime, this will never happen, so never mind. However, the dangers associated with knitting are apparently far more insidious than that. I know this to be true because my wife recently signed up for a knitting class at our local community college.

And that’s when the alarm bell went off.

In order to register, she had to fill out an “Acknowledgement and Assumption of Potential Risk” form. My first question to her was, “Why is this necessary?” She had no answer. Then she showed me the Code of Regulations. Specifically, Subchapter 5, Section 55450. She was asked to, “Acknowledge that I fully understand that my participation in this activity may involve risk of serious injury or death, which may result not only from my own action, but also from the actions of others.”

But wait. It gets even better.

She was then asked to acknowledge that she, “Assumes all risks which may occur, such as sprains/strains, fractured bones, head and/or back injuries, paralysis or loss of eyesight.”

While I could certainly see where this form would be necessary if she were taking a class in Combative Axe Throwing, Rugby for Senior Citizensor Let’s Have Fun with Plutonium, it didn’t seem to be a good fit for a knitting class.

Maybe she needs to go back and read the small print. Maybe this is really a full combat, martial arts knitting class. Maybe it’s a self-defense class with concealed carry knitting needles.

Just out of curiosity, I may go with her to the first class. But first, I need to order two Kevlar vests, chainsaw-proof pants, puncture-resistant needle helmets and laser-sharpened needles, just in case things get serious.

There are no quizzes or grades given in this class. But from everything I’ve seen so far, just surviving it will count for a lot.


Jim is a semi-retired ad agency creative director who just cannot stop word-wrangling. He began his writing career in Chicago as a catalog copywriter for Montgomery Ward, where a typical assignment was to sell a screen door in 12 lines of 36 characters.