THE SINGING SINGER

Grandmas were once little girls, too. That fact would shock a lot of kids. This Grandma, or MeMe as some grands call me, has fond memories of being one of four sisters. Our mother was a creative seamstress and she loved sewing for us. My older sister and I were only 20 months apart in age and we were years older than the other two sisters. Our mother made most of our clothes because of rationing of goods during World War II. Even with the lack of goods, Mother was able to buy a used electric Singer sewing machine when my older sister was a baby. She kept that Singer humming, making creations that looked store bought, as we used to say. I can still see Mother sitting at that Singer sewing machine late Saturday night finishing the last touches on our new church dresses for Sunday School the next morning. We were the best dressed little Baptist girls in Borger, Texas. We would go to Amarillo some days to visit our Grandma and we always took a trip to town where Mother would get ideas at the fancy stores. Then she would buy material and laces and rick rack and threads to match the expensive dresses. At home she would combine patterns, and the finished product always looked identical to the ones in the windows of the stores. My sister Joy and I didn't appreciate her labors then, which is not unusual for kids. We took her for granted. We did enjoy looking like fashion plates, but we longed for store bought clothes. I remember one time we were in the Penney's store in Pampa, Texas where mother was getting ideas for dresses in the ready made children's department. My sister made a curt comment in close ear of Mother that hurt her deeply. I can still see the look on her dear face, one of being unappreciated for the hours of stitching and hemming and embellishing that she had done. My sister said, "We're lucky Mother didn't take leather working in school or she would be making our shoes, too." My sister never realized how deeply that hurt our mother. However, that comment didn't slow down the Singer from its stitch, stitch, stitching. Mother tried other sewing machines throughout the years, ones that made button holes, gathered, puckered, embroidered, etc., but she always went back to the Singer. It was like an extension of her hands. When Daddy would be working late, she would be at the machine. It was a source of comfort to her, as well as an outlet for her creativity. She would get lost in the hum of her old friend, that ancient machine. Many, many years later when Mother and Daddy were living in a retirement home we put her old Singer on one of the shelves in a bookcase next to her bed. My sister Mary wove a garland of plastic daisies around it and it added a creative yet nostalgic accent to the room. Eventually Mother went on to heaven for a glorious reunion with God, the source of her creativity. I asked for the sewing machine because I had so many wonderful memories relating to it. I remember her taking it into a sewing machine store for its yearly oiling and cleaning. That's what kept it humming all those years. She took as good care of that machine as she did her family. I brought the Singer to my home, sat it on top of my sewing machine console, simply thinking it would be a constant reminder of Mother and the time she put into sewing dresses and costumes for us, and a reminder of the love she put into us, around us and onto us. New Years Day, 2010, I had a sudden urge to sew. I was already in football game overdrive. In the imagination of my mind I saw some chair pads for our ladder back dining room chairs. I needed material to cover the cheap chair pads that I had bought, planning to cover the pads with tapestry material. I had not found the tapestry material I wanted yet, but in my imagination I saw pads made from some blue and beige sculptured velvet drapes that had been in Mother and Daddy's house forty years ago. I always loved those drapes and saved them until just the right idea hit me. Well, the idea finally hit me. I even knew where the drapes were stored. I made a pattern from newspaper of the existing chair pads, cut the velvet material into the right pad size and went to the bedroom to sew the pads. I was intending to move Mother's machine off of the top of mine, but an idea come to me, I wonder if the old Singer would still work? It had sat idle for many years. I took the cover off. She looked dusty but she hadn't changed at all. I remembered how to thread that old machine, wonder of wonders. I found a bobbin on the rewind spool, placed it in its proper holder and plugged up the old girl. Much to my amazement, that old Singer started singing the same beautiful song that she had always sung. It was almost as if she sounded like she was glad to be out of retirement and creating again. She didn't sputter once or spew oil or miss a stitch through six heavy velvet chair pads. I felt rejuvenated and I think the Singer felt revived. It was like history repeating itself. We were both delighted with our mission, ah, ha, creating again. I guess Singer sewing machines never stop singing. They sing while they work, enjoying every stitch of creativity they make. I had so much fun and I enjoyed cooperating with the Singer so much that I decided that I also would make a long pillow for the bench at the end of our bed. I had two valances that matched my bedspread, so I put the two of them together, invited Ms. Singer to work with me, and we made another beautiful creation. My machine friend didn't miss a stitch, never broke the thread, just kept singing her songs of joy at being able to contribute beauty to the world with her creations. While Mother's old friend and I were sewing, I felt Mother looking over my shoulder, just like I used to look over hers. I know she loved hearing the Singer begin its work as if it was singing, "Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to work we go."
I swear I could also hear eighty years of songs of praise from that machine, praising the Creator for the love that flowed from that Singer sewing machine to our family. No wonder it continues to sing, because music makes the heart merry. Mother's Singer sewing machine continues to make my heart merry just like it made her heart merry by singing its wonderful songs of love. Let's see, what else can I sew?

EDAN'S EMBARRASSMENT

Small children are very proud of their parents. Some even cling to their mom or dad when they are left at play school or kindergarten for the first time. Not our grand daughter Edan. At three years old she was so ready for play school that she requested her parents leave her there at the door instead of accompany her to class. Yes, she is very independent.
Everything went great at Edan's encounter with play school for the first several days. Then Mom decided to take her to school and visit the room so she could envision her daughter during the day having a wonderful day learning, playing and eating.
Mom and Edan went into the classroom where Edan was excited to show her mom some of the resident toys. Her favorite toy was on a nearby shelf. The only problem was that the string that held the pencil to the toy was caught in the shelving. Edan's mom gently tugged on the toy in an effort to release the string.
Lo and behold, the toy laden shelf came tumbling down on Mom. The teacher ran over to assist Mom, to which Mom protested that she was okay and, thank you, didn't need assistance.
After Mom picked up the toys that belonged on the shelf and replaced them, Edan told her mom in an authoritative voice, "You can leave now."
Three year kids are just as affected by the blunders of their parents as teenagers are. Embarrassment is not age conscious.