The memories of growing up in the old farmhouse are like a storehouse; I root around and come up with something else to ponder. The ever ready, ever needed mending basket was a given in a rural household. I was blessed to be a part of a Mennonite family, complete with my old-fashioned grandmother who was frequently on site. Grandma and Mom both had industrious, busy hands. "Idle hands are the devil's workplace" could have been a motto on our wall.
Mom sewed on the large Singer sewing machine. It had been a treadle machine with the wide pedal, operated in a rocking motion. It was converted to electricity, much easier, quicker if not safer. Somewhere along the road of my apprenticeship, I ran the needle through my fingernail. With the treadle machine, I doubt I would have gained enough speed to achieve that injury.
I believe mom coached us three girls in the operation of the sewing machine, but we each spent three years with Mrs. Conway in home economics to fine-tune the art. Mrs. Conway's classes for novices started with finding the power switch; then she gave us paper templates to trace, in spirals, circles and free form very slowly. Eventually we learned the intrigue of threading the machine properly.
Once we had mastered the beginners' class at Sundre junior high, mom released us to enjoy the Singer machine at home. We each eventually learned to make use of the Butterick patterns imprinted on tissue paper. We were allowed to choose fabric for our home economics projects and wore our efforts proudly.
While we were sewing up a storm, grandma was more likely repairing and remodelling what she already had. I can see grandma with her wire-rimmed glasses sparkling, the aluminum thimble always firmly in place on her finger of her right hand. I never became comfortable with the use of a thimble but mom and grandma used theirs constantly. Whether mending heavy cloth or quilting on a more manageable fabric, the thimbles were firmly in place.
The button basket held a horde of recycled, mismatched buttons. Any that actually matched were secured together with a loop of thread or a large safety pin. The basket also held an old case for glasses. This one had a felt lining, useful for a variety of needles, from tiny to the large darning needle. The basket also housed the button-hole scissors and several thimbles. I also recall a light bulb. Mom found it handy to slip inside a sock for smoother stitching.
Mom and grandma both mended socks with a thin, soft yarn. Dad's work socks were the long, grey and white wool type, with a thin red band. His dress socks were invariably black. I can't imagine mending socks today. They simply come apart.
Dad's work pants around the farm or on the construction site were usually coveralls, with their tough canvas quality. That Singer machine dug in and secured patches in place over the knees or just wove back and forth to reinforce thin spots. Almost as good as new.
"Once we had mastered the beginners' class at Sundre junior high, mom released us to enjoy the Singer machine at home. We each eventually learned to make use of the Butterick patterns imprinted on tissue paper."
