A tale of one hat and five elephants
Have you ever started something you thought was going to be quick, easy and fun only to have it turn into something annoyingly difficult? Of course, you have. We’ve all faced the same dilemma of whether to forge ahead and see the activity through to its competition or say, “The hell with it.” If you opt for the first path, then the question of perseverance versus stubbornness can sometimes collide. I’d like to believe this little story about the hat and the five elephants has more to do with perseverance than stubbornness, but you decide for yourself.
It all started a year ago several months before Christmas. As a new knitter, I thought it’d be fun to handmake something for our oldest god daughter, Elizabeth Kennerely. Lizzie (my nickname for her) is in her early 30’s thus old enough to appreciate the time and effort of such a gift. I first leisurely worked on a tri-color cowl neck piece which when completed, was handed off to Lizzie’s parents, Mike and Kate, who promised to put it under the Christmas tree for her.
A race to the finish
My pride and enthusiasm for having completed the project in record time stoked the idea of knitting a matching hat. Knitwear designer Lisa Hoffman, and my teacher at String, recommended a basic pattern which only required one ball of yarn. One of the other instructors, Petra Marcelle, had created the pattern which was so simple, Lisa recounted, that Petra was able to finish it on her subway ride home one evening. I said I was “in” and frantically set to work with ten days to spare before December 25th. So, this is what it’s like to be Santa Claus, I thought to myself. The pressure was on.
Miraculously, I completed the hat in time for the next weekly knitting class. Lisa congratulated me and offered to do the necessary finishing touches which included sewing on a luxurious, and rather expensive fur pompom. As Lisa did her magic in the back room, I busied myself with starting a new and considerably more challenging sweater project.
We all make mistakes
Lisa returned with the hat inside out and said, “There you go, Marsha.” I gasped as I turned it right side out. Lisa had used the wrong pompon! Sheepishly, I told her she had inadvertently picked up the pompon for another student’s project. Acknowledging her error, Lisa snarled under her breath and begrudgingly replaced it with the correct one, an unusual shade of maroon. Voilà! We were in business and Lizzy’s winter ensemble was complete.
The following day, I took the present to my neighborhood UPS store and mailed it to her parent’s home on Sugan Road, one of the most beautiful rural parts of Buck’s County. With only three days to spare before Christmas, I knew delivery would was tight. But I was reassured as I knew at least Lizzy’s cowl neckpiece would be under the tree for her to open.
What’s with the elephants?
On December 26th I received a cryptic voice message from Kate thanking me for the gift for her daughter adding, “How did you know Elizabeth has an obsession with elephants?” Elephants? What on earth was she talking about?
Turns out my UPS store had mistakenly attached the label for Lizzie’s hat onto someone else’s package. When we discovered the problem, Kate rewrapped the elephants which she described as being a collection of five magnificent pieces. Therein ensued a series of phone calls between the two UPS offices, hers and mine, and yours truly on which next steps to take.
What? You lost my package?
The owner of my UPS store, Mr. Patel, explained in an off-handed manner that he had no way of determining who sent the elephant package, who I assumed had Lizzie’s package. This made no sense to me. Wouldn’t you assume that with UPS’s sophisticated scanning system that finding the owner of the elephants would be a slam dunk? “The system doesn’t work like that plus it could have been any one of hundreds of packages sent out that day.” I do recall being surprised by the mountain of brown boxes in the tiny shop when I brought in my package, almost like walking into the back of a Fresh Direct truck—before they had made their first delivery.
Finally, it was decided to send the incorrectly delivered box of elephants back to my local UPS store. Mr. Patel told me to be patient. He was confident someone would eventually contact him asking what happened to their package. As one of his staff had packed the elephants, he knew they were valuable. “Those expensive elephants can’t go missing for too long,” Mr. Patel assured me with a tone of cocky certainty. “Next customer,” he called out as he dismissed me.
Fast forward, and four months later no one had inquired about the herd of miniature elephants. I became increasingly nervous as each time I would go in to check, Mr. Patel would give me the same irritated look. One time he sneered at me and said, “Lady, I told you I’d call you when your package was returned.” My weekly reconnaissance excursions became monthly.
Always have a Plan B handy
To hedge my bets, however, I bought more yarn and a matching pompom and put them aside. I’ll hold on to the materials for several months just in case, I thought to myself. Then, if no one returned the hat by then, I’ll make a replacement hat. I figured this was a smart strategy as rarely do I ever have to enact one of my carefully conceived Plan Bs.
On one of my monthly investigative visits to UPS, Mr. Patel explained that if no one claimed possession of the elephants, he would sell them on eBay. Then, if my hat were still missing, he would refund my $100 insurance money.
My mind began to race. I hatched a plan. What if I offered to settle the insurance claim in exchange for one or two of the elephants? I called Kate and explained the idea. As she had unwrapped the contents of the box, she was familiar with what was inside. Kate described which of the five elephants Lizzie might like best. “There is one in porcelain with delicate ears which Elizabeth thought was beautiful as well as a hand carved wooden one,“ Kate suggested.
Now this project is getting on my nerves
By six months I finally yelled “Uncle” and demanded my insurance money to offset the extra cost of the materials squirreled away for Plan B. Over the summer I worked on reknitting the hat but with considerably less enthusiasm than the first time. For one thing, the second hat now required two balls of wool and a larger size knitting needle as Kate reminded me that Lizzy had a big head. For another, the project was getting boring.
Knitters are not encouraged to think about how much time goes into a project. However, as a businesswoman I couldn’t help thinking that the value of the two hats was quickly approaching $2,000, especially if I used my former hourly billing rate as head of a communications firm!
I took the hat project with me to New Jersey for Ed’s grandson, Markus’, high school graduation. That weekend with the family, I worked diligently on completing the hat. Somehow, however, I lost the pompon somewhere between New Jersey and Sutton Place South. After multiple phone calls, it still couldn’t be located. This caused panic as it was summertime and my knitting store no longer carried fur pompons. There was no other choice but to put the project away and patiently waited for the fall season when new supplies would arrive.
I’ll finish this or else!
Undaunted, I recently resurrected the almost-finished hat project and took it at my knitting class. I recalled from the first time around that the last part of the pattern was tricky. It required that you count stitches and really pay attention to what you were doing. That day, a young man came into the store and quietly hovered over our class table studying our various projects but not uttering a word. He was in his early twenty’s, thin as a reed and dressed like a throw-back hippie with various layers of natural fiber clothing in dull earth tones. His obviously hand-knitted hat with intricate accent stitching screamed that this was a serious knitter.
The distractor
The lanky young man eventually told us his name was Justin. He explained he has just started knitting six months earlier and was self-taught. Then he told us in a timid, breathy voice about his latest project, socks. He also explained that he was autistic which he felt somehow innately helped him develop special knitting skills.
All the women around the table were captivated. Here was a beginner who had already mastered complicated things such as socks. And, he was even creating his own patterns. But as I was trying to listen to him, I kept screwing up the final stages of my very simple hat. I would miscount and then have to rip out my stitches and start the row again. Justin’s success as a fledgling knitter versus my modest progress upset me. He made me feel like a slacker.
Petra, the instructor that day who also created the one-ball-of-yarn hat pattern, saw the dismayed look on my face. She knew I was having problems multitasking. Luckily, she took pity on me. Petra comes from Barbados and like the island, has a sunny, breezy disposition. When she said, “Leave it Marsha, I’ll finish it for you,” with a reassuring tone and sweet lilt in her speech, I breathed a sign of relief.
Petra’s Plan C
But I knew Petra also needed a pompon to complete the project. Turns out the store had changed accessory vendors and none of the season’s new colors matched Lizzy’s hat. Dejected, I gave Petra a-what-to-do-next look. She returned my despondent glance with a mysterious glint in her eye. “Let me have a look. Maybe in the back of the store we have some leftover pompons.” Indeed, Petra brought out a basket of old, somewhat smashed pompons. We both rummaged through the leftover supplies to see if we were in luck. Indeed, we were. I grabbed the dark marron mass of fur and squealed in triumph.
Petra presented me with the completed hat the following week. It was perfect in everyway thanks to Petra’s surreptitiously also correcting some of my knitting errors.
UPS finally got it right
Two days ago, I took the hat back to Mr. Patel and, with fingers crossed, started the process all over again. You bet I insured the hat again. Kate called last night to let me know the package had arrived safely. I didn’t dare ask whether Lizzy was still wearing the same winter coat as last year. Frankly, at that point, I didn’t want to know.
When I consider my “hat-from-hell” project on a philosophical level, it wasn’t about the cost, time, or determination it took to complete. Rather, it was a matter of perseverance even in the face of minor but excessively annoying adversities.
Newt called it!
Newt Gingrich once described perseverance as “the hard work you do after you get tired of doing the hard work you already did.” By the end of the project, that is exactly how it felt. And yes, there were times when I wondered if it were pure stubbornness which propelled me forward. Whatever the motivation, in the end there was a feeling of equal parts satisfaction and relief. I had achieved a goal and not allowed frustration to pull the project off track.
Last week Mr. Patel reported that the person who had sent the elephants back in December 2018 had finally contacted him and picked up his package. Whether or not the elephants were resent to the original designated recipient, and whether that individual is wearing my first hat, we’ll never know. But at least Lizzy will be walking down the streets of DC (where she lives) this winter decked out in her matching hat and cowl scarf. Let’s hope she doesn’t lose either of them! A replacement of a replacement is highly unlikely for this Santa’s elf.