Whistleblower

          I’m uncomfortable with reporters who outdo each other in floods, fires, and tornadoes. They step deeper and deeper into rushing waters, inhale more smoke, hold on to crumbling walls and broken railings, and dodge flying objects. But today I heard the most amazing words coming from the CNN Newsroom. The anchor woman said to Ben Wiedemann something like ”you had enough wits about you to hit the report button.” It was half question half admiration, to be followed by the video. I turned off the TV. Had to concentrate on my blog, which was to explore the von Trapp Family father – the Captain.

            But my thoughts kept coming back to “YOU HIT THE REPORT BUTTON.” Not, “I hope you took yourself to safety as quickly as possible.” Not “ OMG, I hope you’re all right.”

One hundred feet away from a falling bomb in Al-Brega, Libya, a bomb that killed and wounded and set in motion a panic to escape, and the main concern is documentation – hitting the “report button.” Goods delivered. Had B. W. died in the incident, his last video would have become a goldmine. His tombstone would have become the ultimate tribute to DIGITAL DATA – note the pun – I wonder which digit he used to push the button. With this thought I returned to my own digital contribution to world peace – knitting bears.

          What would I do if I didn’t have at least a small part in this effort? With every bear I try to address a tiny bit of misery. Sometimes I even create a temporary little world within my four walls. This time I reconstruct a few scenes from the movie “The Sound of Music.” I bought the 45-year anniversary edition of the video and can now sing along with the children. Of course the special features are hidden from me while I watch the feature film; one needs a Blue Ray player to take advantage of the extra data collected on a separate DVD. But I really don’t want to know the difference between the film and the real von Trapp family. I want to hear Christopher Plummer sing “Edelweiss.”

          Captain von Trapp undergoes such sweet changes in the musical that I have to follow him around and observe his antics. And then, suddenly, he gives me an idea. Or better, it is his whistle that forces me to be assertive…. and a bit mean, I suppose. I gather the finished bears and those in various stages of development, then I find a whistle and line up the bears on the table on my front porch. The wind is blowing props around. I am cold. Bears fall on their faces. I run for clothespins to hold the curtains to the backboard. I poke metal knitting needles through little bear bodies and anchor them on the foam board that serves as floor. One final whistle blow and all have lined up, in order of their size – Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa, Kurt, Brigitta, Marta, Gretl. Their father would be proud of them, though he might object to loose ends, yarn balls, and other unfinished business surrounding the group.

          While I aim my camera at the row of bears a big gust of wind seriously offends my patience. I quickly hit the picture taking button with my left index finger. Wind lifts a corner of the foam board. Louisa flies off her stand. Liesl tilts on her knitting needle. Kurt falls on his face. Marta tips over. Little Gretl, not even begun, rolls to the floor. The background drops on top of the group. Raindrops begin to pelt me from behind. I am in panic mode now, gathering bears, yarn, curtains, running into the house, closing the door. Breathing a sigh of relief that I’ve made it out of the war zone. And I’ve got the goods. Now I can put the whistle away; listen to Maria sing about her favorite things; return to my real life as small-time, behind the scenes, knitting peace maker.