My work desk is an antique sewing desk. Its top is more than
five feet long with a cut-out section to place a sewing machine. Both sides
have drawers and pullouts on which to place a variety of things. One small
drawer under the top is designed to hold spools of thread.
Mother didn’t begin her teaching career until Jim and I
entered first grade. Daddy’s paycheck stretched as far as possible to cover
bills and needs. To help out, Mother sewed for other people. It was something
she had mastered, and her customers were never is short supply.
A parade of folks arrived at the house with requests. Over
the years, she put together women’s casual and formal dresses, blouses, and
slacks. She also undertook projects to whip up wedding dresses. A couple of her
clients had daughters, and Edna sewed countless dresses for them. At other
times, she became an interior designer and sewed curtains, drapes, and table
cloths.
Mother kept us boys in shirts for school. She
would sew up several of them for each of us to begin each school year. They
didn’t have store-bought tags, but they looked just as good, and those articles
outlasted anything that came from the store. When we were in high school and
needed winter coats, she bought fabric and worked for hours to make ones that
were warm, comfortable, and stylish. I remember one shirt-jacket that she made
for me. It was a small plaid pattern with reds, yellows, and greens. Mother
referred to it as “my coat of many colors.”
After some years, Mother’s sewing business ended.
She devoted her attention to teaching school. Still, she made every stitch of
her own clothing. She also made curtains and other things for the household,
and on occasion, Mother still made clothing for friends or her
daughters-in-law.
After retirement, Mother continued to sew, but
not with a machine. She put together more than a dozen intricately designed
quilt tops, and then she sewed them to the batting and backs. Hour upon hour
was spent watching episodes of “Matlock” or “Heat of the Night” while she sewed
those quilts for us. During the last months of her life, she sat on a patio
couch on her back porch and worked feverishly to complete a hobnail quilt
before her strength was sapped.
When mother passed, we went to her sewing desk to
clean it out. The drawers were stuffed with pieces of material from past or for
future sewing projects. Almost all of them were polyester, a favorite of hers.
A couple of drawers also held patterns, and a box beside the desk was also
packed with those old things that she used to spread out on the kitchen table
to cut material for the items she would make. She owned enough spools of thread
to keep all of us supplied for years to come.
I use that desk now. The hole for a machine is
sealed; instead, my computer sits on top, along with speakers, a printer, and a
half dozen remote controls for televisions and radios. The drawers are now
loaded with a collection of writings, office supplies, and electronic cords. It
is a center for a different kind of work: my writings. I enjoy the use of that
desk as much as she did. Her efforts brought joy and comfort to friends and
family alike. I’d like to think that the pieces that I put together on the
computer do the same thing. Sometimes when I sit at my desk, I close my mind
and see my mother working there. It’s a good way to bring back good memories of
a woman who loved to use her hands to create wonderful things.
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