Paul Gilliam shows respect for God stitch by stitch

By Jenn Director Knudsen

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Paul Gilliam has crocheted thematic kippot for a Chicago Cubs' fan, a U.S. Navy veteran, an 8-day-old baby and a bar mitzvah boy. He also made one in baseball-cap style for someone who always wears a ponytail; the hair threads through a hole in the back.

He's even contemplated, but has yet to tackle, making a yarmulke for an observant cat.

"The problem is the ears, you see," Gilliam said in all seriousness during a recent interview in a conference room where he works. No, not at Michaels or some other crafts store, but at IBM.

A software engineer with two master's degrees by day, Gilliam crochets kippot by night. And during adult Jewish-education classes. And while watching television.

"I go in spurts," said Gilliam, himself, along with wife, Doreen, the owner of three Jewish cats. "When I'm on a spurt, it's like all the time, and when I'm off the spurt, I'm totally off."

Recently, he's been on a spurt, crocheting six kippot for Congregation Neveh Shalom's April 29 auction. Five sold to individuals and the sixth was part of a gift pack; they netted nearly $100 for the synagogue where he and his wife are members.

A Jew by choice who converted 10 years ago, Gilliam, 55, says he's always been a little craftsy but took up crocheting kippot only somewhat recently.

He once made raisin wine that he distilled into 190-proof brandy. "For kicks," he said, using an expression with which he peppers conversation and emails.

"You couldn't actually drink it because it would evaporate before it got down your throat," said Gilliam, who sports a light-gray beard and wears a hearing aid in each ear.

The mere process of creating something is what interests and sucks Gilliam in when it comes to crocheting kippot. It's not a religious or spiritual exercise for him.

Rather, he says, "It's a creative outlet, and I really get a kick out of it because it's like slow-motion creation."

Quite slow, really; his one-of-a-kind crocheted kippot take about 20 hours each, he estimates. In the six years since teaching himself to crochet men's and women's yarmulkes, he's fashioned upwards of 50, including for himself and at least five for Neveh's Senior Rabbi Daniel Isaak.

Gilliam readily acknowledges he is not the only one in Portland making kippot by hand. But he does contend his are unique.

He takes his inspiration for each kippah's unique design or color scheme either from the individual's interests, or the pattern or colors on the recipient's tallit.

Some kippot he stitches Hebrew letters or phrases into; for others, he threads in beads; and for still others, such as one bid upon at the auction, he follows the muse of geometric patterns like triangles.

For Phil Gladstein, a friend and fellow worshipper at Neveh, Gilliam made a blue-hued kippah, complete with anchor insignia copied exactly from the Navy's website.

"He designs [kippot] like an architect," said Gladstein, 79, who served in the Navy in both World War II and the Korean War.

And for author and life coach Lois Shenker, who dons at synagogue her special prayer shawl from Nepal, Gilliam copied the tallit's color palette?red, purple, turquoise and metallic gold for her kippah.

"Whenever I go to shul on Shabbos, I take it with me," Shenker, also a Neveh member, said of her kippah.

Despite his painstaking work, he refuses payment for it, even though he says each head covering would cost quite a bit, given the time it takes to make one.

"No one can pay what I think it's worth," said Gilliam, who also teaches classes on how to crochet kippot.

"Based on that, it seems strange to charge them anything. Besides, it's kind of a kick, and I get another kick out of High Holidays" when he sees the kippot he's made atop friends' heads, he said.

What he does request as "payment" from each kippah recipient is a donation to his or her favorite synagogue or that he or she benefit that house of worship in some way.

He refused payment for the Navy-inspired yarmulke made more than five years ago for Gladstein. Instead, he asked Gladstein, already a very involved congregant, to sing in lieu of the cantor during some morning minyan services.

Gladstein has lent his vocals ever since.

To view some of Paul Gilliam's creations, go to homepage.mac.com/pjgilliam.