Old friend...

Years ago, Mom gave my sister our old family sewing machine - a Singer Centennial that she purchased in the 1950s.  Mom made most of our clothes and taught both my sis and I to sew.  Years later she took up quilting, but gave it up as it was hard for her to see...and after all "how many quilts can you make anyway?"

Recently she ventured into sewing again, making some PJ's with a borrowed machine. It was frustrating as her old machine was so much easier to operate.  At Thanksgiving my sister hauled the old Singer in the back of her truck from Utah to our 90 year old Mom. It needed a little work so I dropped it off at my local Singer repairman to get it rewired and cleaned up.  It took weeks, but they did a great job, carefully cleaning the rust from the motor, replacing the wiring, etc.

Yesterday I hauled it back up to Mom's and we set it back in the cabinet (it weighs a ton!), which she had refinished in a pretty turquoise chalk paint.  I plugged it in, wound a bobbin, threaded it and stitched a few lines on a scrap of cloth.  I had forgotten the sweet hum of this machine that I first learned to sew on when I was 10.   Though the smooth rhythm of needle going up and down reminded me that it once went clean through my index finger (it sews through anything!), we were still old friends.

I remembered a suit I made in high school, back when a field trip to San Francisco required heels and gloves. I remembered my first apron in 4-H and the frustration of learning to gather a skirt without breaking the threads. I remembered my graduation dress from high school with its little embroidered daisy trim.  All that from just listening to the hum of Mom's old Singer.

She told me that I could have it after she was done sewing.  At the rate she's going, it will be quite a while before it comes to Fair Oaks.  Meanwhile, she is as happy as if she just bought a new Bernina and had 5 yards of Duponi silk to sew.

Laurel. Sewing goes on forever!

Head, Heart, Hands, Health

I was reading the recent issue Cowboys and Indians and came across an article about 4-H.  At the very moment I saw the young girl with her green felt hat, the words ran through my mind:

 I pledge
My head to clear thinking
My heart to greater loyalty
My hands to larger service
My health to better living
For my club, my community, and my country...

 

When you recite a pledge once a month for over 7 years, you tend to remember it well into your 60's. Today, the pledge has been revised somewhat to include the "world", as it is a more diverse organization with a wider reach.

 

In the rural foothills where I grew up, neighbors were miles away, we rode a bus to a three room school house and every boy and girl joined the local 4-H club.  The boys usually raised a sheep or steer, learned about electricity and other manly stuff, and the girls gravitated to the more homey endeavors.

 

I learned to sew in 4-H.  My Mom was  the sewing leader and under her direction, me and my friends learned how to make the trademark 4-H sailor collar and an apron in our first year.

 

I learned how to speak in front of people in 4-H.  Members were required to give demonstrations at least once a year in front of the entire club.  Nerve racking as it was, it gave us all our first taste of public speaking.

 

I learned about serving in 4-H, but most of all, I had fun. The opportunities to meet other kids even outside our own club were endless. I think I had my first crush on a boy from a club some 40 miles away...I only got to see him around the camp fire at the annual regional camp in the mountains.

 

I learned the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat in the competitive exhibitions at the county fair.  Blue ribbons were coveted, and I can only remember getting a couple...mine were reds and even some whites. I was not the seamstress that I am today, but by high school I was making many of my own clothes. That experience led to the designing and making of wedding gowns, selling hippie dresses in Berkeley, sewing the dozens of prom dresses for my daughter and evening dresses, suits, and every form of clothing for myself today.

 

My daughter-in-law recently told me that my granddaughter expressed an interest in learning to sew. I was 10 when I first joined 4-H and she has a year to go.  But it made me wonder if I shouldn't perhaps share my craft with a small group of young girls...perhaps even get involved in the 4-H program...yes, they even have clubs here in suburbia!

Woudn't Collette be proud?

 

Laurel.  Still sewing after all these years.

 

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