Sock Wrestling

When I was a missionary in New England, I used to encounter the craziest misconceptions about Latter-day Saints. Many of these seemed to centre on the notion that we were too busy being pious to have any fun. 'Aren't you the people who don't dance?' we would be asked quite regularly. To which I liked to point out that the pioneers who walked to the Salt Lake Valley danced six nights a week (Brigham Young having told them, 'I want you to sing and dance and forget your troubles...') and that the first public building erected in Salt Lake City was not a church but a social hall.

No one ever questioned our willingness to wrestle, thankfully, but, if they had, I could also have pointed out that we Latter-day Saints have been wrestling at least as long as we've been dancing, the Prophet Joseph Smith having been famous (possibly infamous to some) for his eagerness to engage in a good wrestle with just about anyone.

On this point, I love an anecdote from Jedediah M Grant: 'I am aware that a great many have so much piety in them, that they are like the Baptist priest who came to see Joseph Smith.... and folding his arms said, "Is it possible that I now flash my optics upon a man who has conversed with my Savior?" "Yes," says the Prophet, "I don't know but you do; would not you like to wrestle with me?"'

Wrestling of one kind or another is a pretty frequent pastime in our house, despite the fact that our carpet isn't much different to fine-grade sandpaper, but it's always fun to find a new variation—something that happened last month. A bunch of us were at a birthday party for one of our friends when a bloke who is currently investigating the Church (and who shares the Prophet's zest for life) introduced us to sock wrestling.

Instead of throwing one's opponent (as in stick wrestling and leg wrestling) or pinning his shoulders (as in Greco-Roman wrestling), the goal of sock wrestling is simply to take the other guy's sock off. To this end, a single pair of socks is shared between the competitors, each one wearing one on his preferred foot. This changes the entire nature of the tussle because, in using one's legs, one now has to be careful not to get de-socked.

The pandemonium which ensues is such good fun that this has become our household's current favourite mode of wrestling. As we have found out, a single match can easily last 20 minutes, but it's worth all the exertion and sweat when one manages finally to get the dastardly sock off—a feat more easily accomplished, as the photo above will attest, if one can get his opponent's head in a scissor lock first.

Earlier this week someone mentioned to us the concept of sleeping-bag wrestling. This also sounds like it holds promise....

Stake Cultural Night

Saturday night the Canberra Stake held what I hope will be its first-annual Cultural Night, and it was great! One of the things I’ve always loved about our stake is its cultural diversity—in my ward alone we have members whose first languages include English, Portuguese, Russian, Samoan, Spanish, Tagalog, and Tongan—and this event was a perfect showcase for that diversity.

When I arrived at Lyneham Chapel, I had to park in the street because the car park was completely packed out. This was an exciting foretaste of the atmosphere in the hall, which was equally packed out—a good thing to see. Around the perimeter of the hall stalls from various nationalities represented in the stake were set up. Most of these were decorated simply, with things like flags or traditional fabrics, but the Samoan Saints had gone all out, erecting a thatch roof over their tables.

The following nationalities each had a stall: American, Australian, Greek, English, Samoan, New Zealander, Chinese, Tongan, Japanese, Filipino, Tahitian, and Scots. And each stall was serving up food specific to its nation. For example, the Americans had pumpkin pie, corn on the cob, and root beer, and the Scots had haggis and shortbread.

We’d been told that this was to be a ‘tasting’ experience only, but, in good Mormon fashion, it turned out to be a veritable feast. People—including me—were walking around for an hour or more with small plates heaped full of food, and yet not a single stall ran out of a single dish from what I could see. I personally ate wasabi-coated peas, Maori fish chowder, English pork pie, Greek spinach and feta triangles, baklava, eggplant dip, Filipino noodles and gingered chicken wings, boiled Chinese dumplings, Samoan chop suey, raw fish in coconut cream, and octopus stewed in coconut milk and its own ink. To drink I had Koko Samoa, a dark, bitter chocolate drink. I loved it all except for the pork pie. I had no idea anyone could ruin pork, that most versatile of all meats, but leave it to the English. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to try everything, but the stomach does have its limits.

After we’d all feasted, it was time for the programme, which matched the food in both diversity and quality. We enjoyed bagpiping, highland dances, dances from every major pacific island, Maori war chants, Scots ballads, Chilean dances, Chinese love songs, and American bluegrass. I think the performances ran on for about two hours, but no one seemed to want them to end, and the clapping and cheering never died down the whole night.

I think the thing I liked best about the night, though, was the thread of unity which tied all of this diversity together. Despite our various points of origin, we were all there together because the gospel has opened our eyes to our universal sameness as children of God, literally each other’s brothers and sisters—a fact reinforced when, at the end of the programme, we all bowed our heads together and thanked Heavenly Father for such a pleasant time together.