When I first started reading knitting blogs, even before I had my own, I stumbled across the Knitting Curmudgeon. She was acerbic, she was funny as hell, she suffered no fools gladly, and she had absolutely no patience with hypocrisy. She also knew a hell of a lot about knitting.
She had a huge heart and a barbed tongue. People often didn’t like her because she told the truth, plainly, often painfully. But she loved her friends and she adored her family and she still mourned her husband Jimmy.
We were online friends at first, and then met in real life many times. We were part of a ragtag group of friends who loosely lived around the Philly/NJ/NY area and loved to knit. We met for lunch in New Hope and trawled fiber festivals and shows, especially Rhinebeck, which we all love(d).
Last year, I heard from her daughters that Marilyn was ill. Not “I have a cold” ill, but gravely ill, on a ventilator, with doctors stumped as to what was devastating her body and mind. This week, her daughters told us that Marilyn died.
I am still a bit shocked that Marilyn is gone. I am still a bit shocked that I will never read another pointed blog post, that I will never see her across a crowded fiber show floor, that I will never hear her boast about her amazing daughters or her adored Liz again.
She was the Dorothy Parker of knitting.
She was rare and handy.
She will be missed.