Wednesday, February 13, 2008


I really haven't much to write about. I have been sick a lot again. And No one would want to read that. Not even me. I want to write about flowers and dolls and dogs and feeling well. I'm glad I used to do a lot, run around shopping. Collecting neat stuff. Sewing, making dolls.
My Mother one day, said to me, " here you are, you are able to buy as many clothes as you would ever want, what do you want to do? Make your own clothing". Because, when she was a girl, the preferred clothing was, 'store bought'. That was the status symbol. To have a for real, store bought'. I truly did appreciate the irony of that. Learned to sew, finally, as I have mentioned before. And I wanted a sewing machine of my own. However, for some reason, my Dad, saw it as frivolous, indulgent request. One day , here came the pickup, and in the back was a beautiful antique treadle sewing machine. My Grandfather told my Dad to take it to me. He found out I wanted a machine, and my Dad was afraid I would be spoiled , if I got one. Grandpa brow beat my Dad into taking it to me. Ooh! Wow! However, Both my brothers were jealous.I was just so very delighted and so very touched, that my Grandfather gave me that machine. I wrote him a letter and took it down to him myself. You see, my Grandpa was losing his hearing, and his eyesight. So, I had written it large letters. I gave it to him, and wished he could hear me thank him. But he understood. You know, somehow I was a favorite of his. He always sent me a Christmas card and a birthday card. I was always just so shy around him. I really wish I could have gotten to know him. But, by the time I was old enough to really relate to him, he was severely deaf and blind. All of that history, lost and gone forever.
I had my cherished machine to remember him by. Until my younger brother in a fit of towering rage that he is very prone to, completely destroyed my gift.
For some reason , no one seemed inclined to help get it down to where I am living. Just never had time, or if they were coming to visit, the suitcases took up all the room in the car. I do not know why I was fated to never being able to keep my sewing machine with me. Another reason that sewing machine was special, it had belonged to one of my Grandma's Aunts or Great Aunt, who had made her living as a modiste-dressmaker. Fit me perfect.

1 comment:

Endment said...

You get sympathy! I had a treasured treadle - my sister-in-law gave it away while we were in Colorado. I find it impossible to make peace with her decision.

How I miss my machine!