- THE FOODIE FILES: Centenarian secrets
- THE BUZZ: Teewinot claims two
- REDNECK PERSPECTIVE: Hog Island economics
- FEATURE: The Center of the Universe
- GUEST OPINION: Five times the feces?
- GET OUT: Ode to Delta
- MUSIC BOX: Euphoria meets Canyon
- THE BUZZ: The Faces of Blair
- WELL, THAT HAPPENED: Trumped up comedy
- MUSIC BOX: Heroes can’t stand still
Galloping Grandma: It’s a regional thing
Some time ago I moved from the flatlands of Corncob, Iowa to here, the land of pointy hills and low oxygen levels. It has been a big change and my lungs are unhappy and threatening to explode.
Recently, while hurtling down the pass and through that quaint and overpriced settlement nearby, I thought I saw some inanimate objects along the road wearing hats and scarves as if they were cold. There was more to be seen in town. One does not usually see a herd of fake deer wearing sweaters and ear muffs. Maybe it is a regional thing, I thought. Then I remembered when Agnes Gund back in my hometown decided that in the name of civic virtue, all the obscene naked public art should be covered up. She began knitting sweaters and underpants for anything that disturbed her ideas of public nudity.
Nothing escaped. Buster, the big plaster boy pig at the fairgrounds, got much needed shorts. The Virgin Mary over at Our Lady of the Cornfields Catholic Church got a bathrobe and even baby Jesus got a onesie. The Catholics blamed the hard-shell Baptists.
It seemed that there was a plague of yarn. The ladies room at The Elks Lodge got toilet seat covers, tank doilies and cute toilet paper covers. There was a rumor that there were oversized tea cozies to cover urinals in the men’s room but they locked the doors and would not let them in.
Big ideas like this always get out of hand; anything that offended the yarn troops was immediately covered with scarves, sweaters and ear muffs. People were afraid to sit down.
The police finally put a stop to the siege when they caught the purity troops climbing over the cemetery fence with enough sweaters and scarves to cover the county. The police took away their knitting needles, told them to go home, stay there and mind their own business. Eventually everything unraveled and the town was covered with sad grey stings and puffs of yarn. Buster did keep his pants on, for which everyone was glad.
I don’t know the motivation of the local yarn ladies, but I am sure they realized that when public and private sensibilities collide, someone is going to take someone else’s knitting needles away and tell them to go home, stay there and mind their own business.
Meanwhile, there is a moose in my yard eating my bushes and while he is wearing a fur coat, he could use a nice scarf and some jockey shorts. It’s got to be a regional thing.
Image credit: James Todd