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Published Wednesday, August 20, 2008

A stitch in time

When my grandmother died several years ago, my mom gave me some of the sewing implements she had inherited from her mother. A few fabrics, some lace and pastel threads told me that Mommy Lollo, as we called her, enjoyed sewing with soft floral fabrics that were almost always accented by lace or trim of one sort or another.

When mom passed away in March of this year I received the rest of grandmother's sewing stash as well as my mom's sewing basket.

There's something reverent about exploring the cache of thimbles and bobbins, spools of thread, buttons and other tools that grandmother utilized on a regular basis. It was exciting to see the vintage labels and graphics on cards of snaps or needles, each marked with prices unseen in 40 years. And then there was a needle, still threaded, as if waiting for her to return. As I held it, I wondered how long ago did Mommy Lollo place it on the card with pastel pink thread dangling, as if she had paused just long enough to pick up a spool to change colors.

Buttons with "diamond" centers and fifteen-cent belt buckles are a few more of the finds in grandmother's stash, but my favorites are the buttons for baby clothes.

Smaller than the diameter of pencil erasers, a card of six of these tiny pastel buttons sold for a single dime. "Lady Washington Baby Pearls," says one brand that features a plump pink baby in a diaper. Obviously a child that needs someone to sew him or her something to wear, the bare-chested, curly headed infant is pink cheeked and looks like the kid from the Dick and Jane first reader books.

Something I didn't expect to find in the collection of grandmother's sewing gear was her 1975 Food Stamp Handbook for Volunteers. Printed by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, the booklet gives steps toward becoming a volunteer for the needy. While I didn't expect to find it among her sewing implements, I was not surprised at her volunteer spirit. Mommy Lollo was a no-nonsense woman who took the lead in helping others whenever possible.

As I sorted through the various items I wondered if she identified with the women depicted on the vintage packages with their perfect figures in 1940's and 50's dresses, complete with pearl earrings and shoulder-length bobs. Having a preference to wearing gloves and veiled hats, I'm pretty sure grandmother didn't follow the latest trends, but stuck to the older ones.

Once I'd separated grandmother's fabrics and laces from her implements and tools, I reached for my mother's sewing box. It is a beige rattan basket with green trim. The latch for the top is loose so I have to hold it in two hands. I remember this basket from childhood, grabbing it by the handle and delivering it to my mom as she sat with pins clutched in her mouth and a last-minute repair in her lap. Though her words were barely audible around the pins she held tightly in her lips, I always knew what she needed and I'd dig in the sewing box, later watching her hands as she mended a hem or stitched a seam.

After sorting Mommy Lollo's things, I started to open mom's sewing basket and then decided to wait. There would be time later to look through her collections of buttons and pins. My sisters and I have already gone through the various blouses and nightgowns, and this is all I have left.

Mom's birthday is Aug. 23. This marks the first year I won't send a card to her. Instead, I'll take down her sewing box where I'm sure there's a needle still strung and waiting. I could guess that a pastel thread dangles from its end because just like her mom, my mother loved pastel colors. Being careful not to spill its contents, I'll look for that needle and when I find it I'll pin it right next to that one of grandmother's, still threaded and still attached to one of those vintage needle cards. Though the two needles with their threads won't be used for sewing, they will stitch a precious moment in time as they remind me of these wonderful two women before me. I'll think of them each time I thread my needle and sew something special for someone close to me. At the end of the day, I'll place my needle in the card with the colorful thread it holds.

And then I'll smile.