Arkie John
Active member
As I was on the mountain enjoying the solitude that only a great God could make, my mind wandered back to my early childhood as I leaned back in my folding chair. The time machine was engaged and I was rolling back. For some reason, the machine stopped at about 1960. As I drifted in and out of a semi-sleep, not caring whether game came by or not, I relaxed and let the memories advance, front and center.
I remember my Mother always doing for us, and Daddy too, for that matter. This story is mainly about Mother and about one of those related blessings. So hang in there and go along with me, eh?
As most of you regulars know, our Daddy was a carpenter and therefore we never benefited from a 'regular' income. If it rained two days out of five then, Daddy got a three-day check, thus tighten-belt time for all. It was a way of life, growing up in Saline County. Toward the beginning of winter Daddy and mother would have a little saved back to get them through the lean times so common with the season. Then about March, the work would begin to pick up and we could breath easily, once again.
Now, during these times of leanness, we did what we could to make do. Tommy was 4, Linda was 8 and I was 12. We each had our own way of making things just the way we wanted. But there was one thing that Mother had that fascinated us all. It was the SCRAP DRAWER!
You see, Mother was a 24 K seamstress and before she became a nurse, she sewed all the time. Daddy bought her a new Necci cabinet machine and did she ever use it. Why, she always sewed us kids' clothes until we got big enough to snub our noses up at the McCall Pattern-looking shirts and pants. She wore out that Necci and Daddy bought her a new top of the line Singer with a handsome cabinet.
Nevertheless, I guess as Momma said, I got the "big ass" about those precious items she made for me and so, I got to do without them from the 7th grade on. I never realized the significance nor did I think of the importance of each hand made item. No matter, I reckon. She soon embarked on a career as a nurse that wouldn't allow her to sew as much as she wanted anyway. She never abandoned her sewing, but just couldn't do it as much. I don't recall her ever sewing after her series of strokes in the '80's though. Linda would know for sure. Well, back to the story.
As with all seamstresses, there were always leftovers of material. Momma never threw them away, it seemed. I never remember her making a quilt or anything like it but she always had the bottom drawer of that sewing machine cabinet just stuffed FULL of material remnants from all the shirts, pants, shorts and dresses that she systematically made up for us urchins.
Once she took a look at some store-bought Barbie clothes and went to work. That Barbie of Linda's looked like Cinderella before she got through that day and her little girl just beamed. She used the scrap drawer's contents to make all of them. Bless her soul, she could sew!
Well on those cold winter days, Linda, Tom and I would go meddlin' in her scrap drawer and the next thing you know, we had us a mess all over the room. We got the sissors and the pinkin' shears out and made our own doll clothes for Linda's dolls and the like. We also used the scraps to make layouts of forts and this and that, employing the wild and wondrous imaginations of youth and a bunch of plastic soldiers. A big quilt employed smartly makes good rolling terrain,fit for any respectable invading army, you know. We were just lost in all of it, having the greatest times.
Before we knew it, it was nearing supper time and time for Daddy to come home from work. So out came the call to clean the place up and get ready to eat. It just HAD to be done before Daddy came home, or else.
So we scurried around and put up the goodies, cramming all the scraps back into that scrap drawer and folding the quilts as best we could (certainly not to Mother's standard but the best we could)...readying the scrap drawer for another time of adventure.
Linda has the old sewing machine now and it sets in her home as stately as the day it was delivered to Mother. It is a beautiful piece of furniture, but the real beauty of it is in the memories of what Louise Gould Garrett produced with it over all those years. She would teach anyone to sew that would listen to her patient instruction, including yours truly.
Oh! For the days of our youth! But today is beautiful in it's own way. The sun, beaming the God-beams through the bare-leaved oaks, along with the nippish pre-evening whisps blowing over the high saddle on Bear Den Mountain; it all signaled to me that it was time for the descent.
I packed up and with a certain reluctance I cannot explain, I proceeded down the well-worn deer trail to the old van less than a half-mile down the mountain.
Momma loved us so and provided like we never knew, back then.
The next time I'm over at Linda's, I'm gonna have myself a look...in that scrap drawer.
Thanks for comin' along. <><
Arkie John
I remember my Mother always doing for us, and Daddy too, for that matter. This story is mainly about Mother and about one of those related blessings. So hang in there and go along with me, eh?
As most of you regulars know, our Daddy was a carpenter and therefore we never benefited from a 'regular' income. If it rained two days out of five then, Daddy got a three-day check, thus tighten-belt time for all. It was a way of life, growing up in Saline County. Toward the beginning of winter Daddy and mother would have a little saved back to get them through the lean times so common with the season. Then about March, the work would begin to pick up and we could breath easily, once again.
Now, during these times of leanness, we did what we could to make do. Tommy was 4, Linda was 8 and I was 12. We each had our own way of making things just the way we wanted. But there was one thing that Mother had that fascinated us all. It was the SCRAP DRAWER!
You see, Mother was a 24 K seamstress and before she became a nurse, she sewed all the time. Daddy bought her a new Necci cabinet machine and did she ever use it. Why, she always sewed us kids' clothes until we got big enough to snub our noses up at the McCall Pattern-looking shirts and pants. She wore out that Necci and Daddy bought her a new top of the line Singer with a handsome cabinet.
Nevertheless, I guess as Momma said, I got the "big ass" about those precious items she made for me and so, I got to do without them from the 7th grade on. I never realized the significance nor did I think of the importance of each hand made item. No matter, I reckon. She soon embarked on a career as a nurse that wouldn't allow her to sew as much as she wanted anyway. She never abandoned her sewing, but just couldn't do it as much. I don't recall her ever sewing after her series of strokes in the '80's though. Linda would know for sure. Well, back to the story.
As with all seamstresses, there were always leftovers of material. Momma never threw them away, it seemed. I never remember her making a quilt or anything like it but she always had the bottom drawer of that sewing machine cabinet just stuffed FULL of material remnants from all the shirts, pants, shorts and dresses that she systematically made up for us urchins.
Once she took a look at some store-bought Barbie clothes and went to work. That Barbie of Linda's looked like Cinderella before she got through that day and her little girl just beamed. She used the scrap drawer's contents to make all of them. Bless her soul, she could sew!
Well on those cold winter days, Linda, Tom and I would go meddlin' in her scrap drawer and the next thing you know, we had us a mess all over the room. We got the sissors and the pinkin' shears out and made our own doll clothes for Linda's dolls and the like. We also used the scraps to make layouts of forts and this and that, employing the wild and wondrous imaginations of youth and a bunch of plastic soldiers. A big quilt employed smartly makes good rolling terrain,fit for any respectable invading army, you know. We were just lost in all of it, having the greatest times.
Before we knew it, it was nearing supper time and time for Daddy to come home from work. So out came the call to clean the place up and get ready to eat. It just HAD to be done before Daddy came home, or else.
So we scurried around and put up the goodies, cramming all the scraps back into that scrap drawer and folding the quilts as best we could (certainly not to Mother's standard but the best we could)...readying the scrap drawer for another time of adventure.
Linda has the old sewing machine now and it sets in her home as stately as the day it was delivered to Mother. It is a beautiful piece of furniture, but the real beauty of it is in the memories of what Louise Gould Garrett produced with it over all those years. She would teach anyone to sew that would listen to her patient instruction, including yours truly.
Oh! For the days of our youth! But today is beautiful in it's own way. The sun, beaming the God-beams through the bare-leaved oaks, along with the nippish pre-evening whisps blowing over the high saddle on Bear Den Mountain; it all signaled to me that it was time for the descent.
I packed up and with a certain reluctance I cannot explain, I proceeded down the well-worn deer trail to the old van less than a half-mile down the mountain.
Momma loved us so and provided like we never knew, back then.
The next time I'm over at Linda's, I'm gonna have myself a look...in that scrap drawer.
Thanks for comin' along. <><
Arkie John
