(This entry requires at least a modicum of explanation… I had started a draft of a paper on what excites me about knitting socks, but had to leave it for several eventful days, and now that I return to it I can’t quite remember where I put that yarn. I was more or less brainstorming extemporaneously, rather than logically putting my socked foot in my mouth. This is what remains, and I’m undecided on what I’m going to do with it…)
What excites me most about knitting socks is summed up in a term I have coined: sockism. The lack of any toes in most socks and the fact that we don’t have opposable thumbs on our feet is vibrant and refreshing. To start with the foundation that all members of the community have two feet to stand on and that we all have ten toes (or embrace anyone who doesn’t.) This is the basis of true peace, lasting shalom. This is most easily described and understood as making nice wool socks amongst ourselves. Such warm, wool socks, especially when they are bright and colorful, have the potential to bridge differences of belief and unite disparate podiatricalogical and sole perspectives.
I am excited about the truth in the old proverb that you can judge a foot by its sock. Our skimble-skamble heritage affirms this by nodding to people’s feet, not their meat. As someone who stands on my own two feet, I believe it is my path to assist people in assessing their sock options based on the toes and the heels they bring to their lives, through their feet, ankles and shins. This process of legwork is much more open and therefore rewarding in knitting socks because it is not tied down to any particular color or texture of thread.
And yet, contemporary fiddlesticks are inheritors of a whangdoodle heritage that we should be proud of. Historically the flimflam and flummadiddle organizations have been on the forefront of sock justice and foot covering movements amongst most jiggery-pokery organizations. Our socks have been prophetic and inspirational.
The writing home of David Soliday