Knitting on the 49th

For years I had a deep dark secret that I kept carefully hidden beneath a veneer of respectable latte leftism, not just any kind of latte leftism but the kind that will only drink latte made from fairly traded, cooperatively grown, bird-friendly beans.

I drove a Volvo, shared my home with a Corporate Social Responsibility expert and togged our children in clothing from Mountain Equipment Coop—a well known Canadian tree-hugging institution.

More importantly, I made it a point to only purchase yarn from LYSs (local yarn stores) as opposed to BBSs (big box stores).

Then it all came crashing down on me. Late one evening while searching on line for “Housing Boating Adventures in the Kootneys”, a particularly picturesque region of British Columbia, I came across the website for Lawrence Kootnikoff, the only man in the world with the power to destroy my carefully crafted latte leftist persona

For four whole days in 1982 (or was it 1983?) Lawrence was the absolute love (or was it lust?) of my life. He had some interesting quirks, like hosting the Folk Show on CITR Radio in Vancouver, sleeping with a picture of Che Guevera over his bed and sporting a button that said “Question Authority!” but he treated me so much better (“Cold eh? Want my jacket?”) than all the other guys I dated (“Cold eh? Can ya drive me to the peeler bar?”) that I was willing to over look them. My feelings however, were unrequited. I think it had something to do with the fact that he thought we were politically incompatible or that I was morally bankrupt, I can’t remember which.

Sure I was the vice president of the UBC Progressive Conservative Youth Association and co-chair of the Ayn Rand book club but what did that have to do with anything? I could’ve removed the picture of Ronald Reagan from my night stand and stopped wearing my “Don’t be Vague, Honk for Haig” button (as in General Alexander Haig who was Reagan’s then Secretary of State--Haig was so far to the right he makes Dick Cheney look like a liberal) but it just wasn’t meant to be.

A big sticking point to having a relationship with me was his opposition to supply side economics which I supported. I mean any fiscal policy that increased the supply of quality yarn (artisan not acrylic) in the marketplace so that prices came down and yarnovres—like me—could benefit from the lower prices of their favourite fibres couldn’t be all bad, could it?

After my discovery of Lawrence’s continued existence, I started having nightmares that he would one day Google me, find out that I now moved in politically respectable (responsible?) circles (Jack Layton the leader of the New Democratic Party, Canada’s only socialist political party, is a family friend) and show up in Toronto to denounce me as some sort of faux latte leftist.
Now the likelihood that this would actually happen was unlikely, but I’m somewhat paranoid and delusional at the best of times, so why not now?

To preempt Lawrence from spilling the beans on me, I decided to contact him. I found out that in addition to “living in the desert of Los Angeles”, he was married to an absolutely brilliant woman, parenting 2 small children and working as writer.