My husband and I had an interesting discussion the other day about these new shows on reality TV. You know the ones, the people who are convinced the end is coming and they are going to be the only ones that survive. I have to admit that I think it’s all a bunch of rot. I don’t foresee the end of the world coming, and if it does, I certainly don’t want to be one of the few people left if it means I have to spend the rest of my days living in a concrete bunker eating dehydrated peas and beef jerky.
He had an interesting point when he said that he thought the people that would be successful would be the ones that are part of a community that works together to survive what ever befalls.
That got me thinking. What would my community need to survive? And not just survive but also thrive? Clearly it had better be a cold event because my knitters and their families are all very well-equipped with woolly knitted goods. And of course we would need food and water and all that good stuff. We’d have plenty of free time because I think we would have to assume that none of our jobs would be all that important at that point. With our electronic distractions gone, we’d have almost unlimited knitting time.
Most of us already have sufficient stashes that if we’re not careful, we could land ourselves on an episode of Hoarders, so clearly we are set for yarn. Many of us would bring spinning wheels or spindles, and because they have almost unlimited output in a group of spinners with lots of time on their hands, someone would also need to save the sheep. And alpacas. And llamas. And maybe camels. And bunnies (angora, don’t ya know). And goats (also angora, don’t ya know). It would need to be a veritable fiber-bearing ark. This could get complicated because our community also comes with dogs, cats, husbands, children, aging parents, and even the occasional friend who just needed a hand. Just imagining the chaos that would come from rabbits, goats and Westies together makes me laugh.
I think in the end, we’d all be okay because we’d stick together. That’s part of what I love about these people – they’re always ready to give someone a hand, whether it’s to solve a tricky pattern problem or knit a prayer shawl for someone in the hospital. In the end, it seems to me that what keeps the knitting community alive would also be what keeps the greater community alive. And that doesn’t sound like doomsday after all. So, bring it on Mayans, we’re ready. And we’ll be keeping the world warm, one hand-knitted garment at a time.