Think about it.
We thread our way through the crowd.
Which can be like threading a needle.
Except sometimes that’s harder.
Maybe things have been hanging by a thread.
And we wait.
And hope and pray.
Or we snap the thread.
All of a sudden, break it off.
Those who think about thread probably sew.
Some of us don’t.
But I admire those who do.
If you want thread, try The Community Thrift Store.
They have a plethora of things as well as thread.
Birds use thread for building nests.
And we use it to make everything else.
Or so it seems.
All have to do with thread.
Thread’s been around since the first garments were made for warmth and protection.
Earliest known sewing thread consisted of thin strips of animal hide.
Perfect for stitching large pieces of hide and fur together.
Now that’s my kind of sewing.
Later civilizations brought refinements in clothing (thank goodness).
This included spinning and dyeing of thread.
The Egyptians made thread from plant fibers.
And spun thread from the wool and hair of domestic animals.
They (and the Phoenicians) used berries and plant matter to make colorful, long-lasting dyes.
Which, of course, the Native Americans did as well.
Yet never the twain did meet.
After that, China and Japan discovered the beauty of silk fibers spun as thread and proceeded to transform them into cloth.
Then along came the Industrial Revolution.
Production of thread moved from cottage handiwork to factories equipped with high-speed machines.
Just like so many other things taken from the hands of their maker.
It seems like we’ve been going faster and faster ever since.
Mass producing and mass consuming.
Hurry hurry hurry.
Keeping the machine of life going.
Wearing the rug threadbare.
Renee Walker is a poet, writer, and real estate broker on the Square with her canine assistant, Buster.