Deep Thoughts

Sock-sewing. Ahh, such a time of the past. Where are we now? All wrapped up with our fancy gizmos and gadgets. Iphones and toilets. Have we forgotten the ancient art of darning? Have we forgotten our heritage? I hope not. I look down at my sock right now, and a hole stares straight in my face. Defiant it is. This sock hole needs to be taught a lesson by Mother Needle.

So I decided to go on a quest. A quest to the South-American Andes...where darning began.

Rumor has it, a clan of middle-aged nuns inhabit a monastery atop the tallest peak. These nuns are no ordinary nuns. Besides wearing the typical black/white gowns and being excellent softball players, the nuns are darning masterminds! The great American darning ace, Jing-Lee Seung, was actually taught by the nuns (FYI Jing-Lee Seung has won 4 golden needles in past 2 Olympic games; just to let you know, I know you were dying to hear that).

So, I reached the monastery after a grueling 15-day hike. I walked up to the huge gopher wood door and knocked. My knocks echoed throughout the building. The door slowly creaked open, and an old lady appeared. I asked if this is where the expert darning nuns lived. She answered with a foreign sounding, "No you idiot, it's the monastery next door." I peered past the building I was at and saw the flashing lights of the "Incredible Darning Nuns of the Andes" blaring right back at me. Hmm, I must be the first foreigner to arrive. I'll make this quick. I don't to mess with their culture.

I walked up and paid my "tour fee," whatever that was. Gotta be something with their culture. Just do it.

Sitting in the dark sat all my idols. There was Rheja Sumada! She could cross-stitch a hole in 7 seconds flat! And there was Youhi Mefamo, she was the Queen's personal darner! I stood flabbergasted. Also, a little gassed. But that's besides the point. Those Andes enchiladas are deadly!

I mustered up the courage to ask a question. "Could I be your apprentice?" Seemed like a small request, right? Wait. Did she just nod her head?? I think she did. I jumped over the line ropes (another cultural thing). I started to darn.

And darn I did.

For the next 5 years, I learned. They taught me everything, and at the end of my tenure, I said my goodbyes. For some odd reason, they said nothing. Come to think about it, they hadn't said anything for 5 years (must be their culture).

I returned home and there sat my nemesis. The holey sock. Still defiant. Instantly, I sanctified that sock with a quick one two stitch and sat back. Victory....5 years of experience. Yeah! After a couple minutes, I looked down at the newspaper. Darning lessons for 5 bucks an hour. What?!?