Life, 1918-12-05 · page 46 of 76
Life — December 5, 1918 — page 46: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a humorous domestic story (not political satire) set during World War I. The narrator observes a woman on a train whose overstuffed knitting bag becomes comically chaotic when she searches for her ticket. **The humor:** The bag's contents—rubber balls, censored letters, mirrors, tape measures, photographs, pins, lemon drops, and eventually a half-finished sock—spill out one by one, revealing the bag as less a practical knitting project and more a chaotic catch-all. The irony is that after all this unpacking, she finally produces a sock, seemingly vindicating her "knitting bag" claim—only to discover she's lost the needle. **The context:** The story mocks women's famously disorganized purses through an extended comedic catalog. The "Swiss Family Robinson" reference suggests her bag contains everything needed for survival. The accompanying cartoon shows soldiers, likely referencing the wartime setting when such domestic humor provided relief. The patriotic naval emblem on the bag's exterior suggests the woman supports the war effort, making her knitting (socks for soldiers) a patriotic act—yet undercut by the comedy of her incompetence.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
848 Christmas Life Her Knitting Bag HE laid it on the seat beside her, as if weary of its very weight. Out of it she produced a book. The conductor interrupted her read- ing, and she raised the bag to look for her ticket. Thus released, a loose rub- ber ball (very red and alluring) rolled ( N ‘ ! ’ gaily down the aisle. The conductor brought it back, and waited while her search for the ticket continued. She dove into the bag once more. his time some very much censored letters were brought to light, but she did not seem discouraged, as she knew she had it, if only she could find her purs The conductor said he would return, whereupon she systematically arted to unpack—taking out the cles one by one. (4) a bulky package in the shape 2) next some lip she used with the help of a (3) tiny mirror, which led, apparently, a charmed life among the debris in the hottom of the bag; then (4) a tape measure ; (5) two lists; (6) some post- age stamp: ) a roll of films; (8) nied by (0) a little cushion full of pins; (10) some more letters; (11) a bunch of keys and a (12) box of lemon drops (probably bought to accompany the red ball home). The war news in my paper paled in beside the revelations of human nature going on so near me. Perhaps I was mistaken. Hers was not a knitting but a sort of Swiss Family Robinson affair. There on the outside was an emblem of the avy in gold and blue, and I thought I saw a discour- SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE “BULL, THEY SAY CLEANLINESS 1S NEXT TO GODLINESS.” “1 SAY IT'S NEXT TO IMPOSSIBLE.” aged-looking needle putting up its head, The purse had reappeared, also a powder box, which she could not resist, as she evidently thought she had lost it long ago. But could she knit?) Was there really any legitimate excuse for that wonderful, voluminous bag? I held fast to my seat (as well as my faith), though the train was slowing down and I nearing my station, Again she submerged. In triumph she brought forth a sock, almost finished and full of promise. Relieved beyond measure, I took one final look. Despair was there before me, for, clutching the bag with both hands, she was shaking AT THE SIGHT OF HIS FIRST HUN, PRIVATE RASTU: N it upside down. FORGOT ALL HE HAD LEARNED AT TRAINING-CA She had lost a needle! Gertrude P. Bishop.