Long ago in the 1970s while I was in nursing school at Wright State University in Ohio, I knitted this sweater in acrylic yarn. It was fun to knit and to wear. I wore it with slacks for years until age, good food and gravity changed my shape from green bean to pear and the sweater went into that stack of things unworn but too nice to throw away.
I was closest to a group of 5 or 6 students who had come late to the study of nursing. Nowadays they would call us "nontraditional students"--women in their 30s who had other college credits but now sought the employment security and mix of science and humanities implicit in baccalaureate nursing. Some of us had put a husband through grad school. We owned homes, had kids in school and community responsibilities. Two of us were married to faculty members. We did not suffer fools silently.
The school was brand new; ours was the first "generic" class, meaning students who did not already have an RN license. When we found a paucity of books in the library, we spoke up. When the skills lab was inaccessible except during class time, we volunteered to monitor it for additional hours so students could practice. When a tornado roared through the neighboring town of Xenia, we volunteered to help care for nursing home residents displaced from their building to a conference center. When we found the administration unresponsive to our expressed needs, we organized a committee and complained to the provost; the Dean was dismissed and I was appointed to the search committee for a new dean. It was a heady time.
We graduated in 1976. Most of our group went on to graduate school right away; I waited a while. Our class made a real impact on nursing services in the community, instituting new programs and mentoring other nurses. We kept in touch casually for some years. Several died. I think we're all retired now. Recently I've been emailing with Carol who retired and moved to another state, and who vividly remembers the sweater. How funny--the things that make an impression. (I remember that she made her own yogurt.)
The sweater resurfaced recently as I was unpacking some boxes. Still don't know what to do with it. Maybe I can find a kindred soul who would wear such a thing.