scraps of cloth

My mom has a degree in Home Economics, which was a fairly common pursuit for women who went to college in the late 1940's.  I'm not sure one could even obtain that kind of degree these days.

I've no idea what courses she took to get that degree, but I know for sure quite a few involved cooking and sewing.

She, for the most part, is a very "by the book" cook, using recipes for most meals.  I have nothing against that...many of my favorite recipes come from a Pillsbury cookbook I got for a wedding gift.  And, I have a fair share of my mom's recipes in my culinary repertoire.

When I was a kid, we had evening meals as a family and all the food groups were represented...every night.  And we always had some sort of dessert, even if it was only jello.  She knew her way around a kitchen.

Sewing was another matter.  It did not come easily to her.  But, she didn't let that stop her.  Probably once a year she would create something for me.  I remember standing for hours as she pinned the patterned pieces around me.

I hated it.

I did not like standing still for that long and I did not being poked by the straight pins she used.  Getting the thing off once it was pinned was pure torture.

And, I'm sad to say, I didn't really like any of the clothes she made me, because, well, they always looked homemade.  Sorry, mom.  I admit I was relieved when I got to the age when it was no longer cool to wear homemade frocks.

So, last week she told me she had something to give me.  Something she'd moved from house to house to house since 1971.

It was a plastic bag filled with scraps of cloth from every piece of clothing she'd ever made for me.

That kind of melted my heart.

When I saw it, I immediately identified most of the pieces and could remember the dress or skirt she'd made.  It was a wonderful trip down memory lane (with just a few niggling pin prick sensations).

I wasn't that surprised that she'd kept it.  She's a pack rat.  When we went on a trip to Williamsburg, VA when I was in college, she brought along a Woman's Day or McCall's from the 60's to read.  I'm tellin' you, the woman is a trip.

I'm going to do something with the fabric...maybe make a framed collage.

I think I'll make two...one for me and one for the seamstress who lovingly stitched every hem and seam for her daughter.

Who didn't appreciate it then...but does now.

Next time...more funny stories about my mom