These are relics from my history. Actually they're all I have from my Mommy. When the family 'stupidly' sold the old house after my Mother, and Father passed away I took just a few things.
As alleged "cousins" drove away with furniture, and appliances. I just kept a bottle of buttons. These are from my mom's upstairs sewing room. It used to be my boyhood room. The window of which I was convinced I could perch, and fly from.
Kids believe in the amazing. In fact for them the magical is an everyday reality. Maybe I 'could' have flown. Perhaps boys, and girls fly all the time, but keep it to themselves.
However about the buttons.
They patiently resided in their jar, top pix above, for 50 years,..give or take. As you can see they're 1940's, 50's, 60's artifacts. These are what my mother picked through to repair the family clothing.
Back in the day folks made their own clothes. Especially women. Off the rack department store duds didn't become affordable or common till the late 50's into the early 1960's.
I clearly remember my mother, and various aunts getting together to sew new outfits for themselves, and my sisters. Speaking of whom one of my sisters has many of the "patterns" that were sold for frocks, and such.
Well I've kept one of mom's many button jars with me through the years. I'll soon pass it on, like I did my Great Grandma's music box, to one of my nieces. A word to the wise. Pass heirlooms no matter how humble or great down the female line
I mean it.
Your grandsons, or nephews will just put it on ebay the second you kick the bucket.
(Btw, click on the pixs for a close look at the buttons. Interesting stuff,...in a personal, and family kind'a way.)
Stay tuned.
2 comments:
"I'll soon pass it on....."
Not too soon, I hope.
Aside from enjoying your personality, engineers who'll put up with "that nuthouse" -are few and far between.
Keep it together ol' friend.
Well I'm not shopping for kindling for my pyre just yet.
However I am thinking about it, and making arrangements. It's getting on that time.
I always though being put in a metal box'n getting buried somewhere was less than swift.
What's the point.
Besides I've no interest in having my bones picked over by 50th century urban archeology grad students.
I'll go as my mom did. My ashes happily dumped into the sea.
No cost of grave upkeep or casket transfer when the graveyard property gets turned into a parking lot.
Stay tuned.
Thanks for being there Comrade.
Post a Comment