Threads of Easters past
All these years later, I can still hear the sound Mother's sewing machine made as she carefully turned beautiful fabric and thread into a dress -- or anything else she took a notion to, for that matter. Looking back, her sewing spurts seemed to coincide with major holidays.
Compared with today's computerized and state-of-the-art sewing machines, Mother's could only be described as basic. Although not fancy, Mother convinced my sister and me it was almost sacred. We were warned not to touch it. "It isn't a toy!" Mother said.
In my mind as a little boy, her sewing machine was magical. When not in use, it had the capability to completely morph into a wooden table. A latch was unsnapped and, before we knew it, the actual sewing machine was hanging upside down within the table. The hinged wooden top folded neatly back over it, completely hiding the machine. Thinking back, it was probably my first up close and personal viewing of a magic trick.
On one side there was a small drawer where Mother stored her spare bobbins, remnants of thread and fabric samples, a small needle threader and a shiny silver pair of scissors.
Always being crafty, I knew her scissors cut better than the cheaper ones I had with my school supplies. One day, I decided to use them -- a day I will never forget, I might add. I can still remember the exact place I was standing when Mother realized I had them!
"Where did you get those?" she asked, already knowing the answer. "Your sewing machine drawer," I answered with the scissors completely stopped but still holding the sheet of paper in their grip. Let me just say, it didn't end well, and I never used them again on anything but fabric -- and even that had to be supervised by Mother.
Easter was always a time Mother opted to sew. A week or so before Easter Sunday, my sister and I went to the fabric store with Mother in search of pastel prints, colorful buttons, trim and simple dress and vest patterns. We left with a variety of everything from seersucker to pink double knit. Mother placed the bag next to her sewing machine.
Almost yearly, it was the Saturday before Easter Sunday when Mother realized all the fabric, thread and patterns were still in the bag. Horror came over her face when she calculated the few hours left before the Easter dresses and vests had to be completed, pressed and perfect to wear to church.
Accepting her mission, she slung back the top of the cabinet and whirled the heavy sewing machine into place. The ironing board was set up and the dining room table became a place to cut fabric.
We didn't dare disturb her during the pre-Easter sewing frenzy. Sewing, especially in a hurry, was one of the few times Mother gave herself permission to cuss. The closer darkness approached, the more desperate she became.
Somehow she always managed to have the Easter outfits completed. Mother and my sister were in matching cotton candy-colored frocks and, if I was lucky, I had a coordinating vest.
The following morning, we all got in our car to make the short drive though the pollen to church.
Looking around the congregation, you could see just about every shade of spring color you could possibly imagine.
After we attended church and ate lunch, we looked for dyed Easter eggs and ate delicious bites of creamy coconut cake and luscious chocolate-covered eggs. Mother was always smiling and looked beautiful in her custom couture dress. No one would have ever dreamed she was up all night sewing -- and my sister and I never said a word!
MORE WITH MARK
Visit Mark at his booth April 2-3 at the Mulberry Street Arts and Crafts Festival in downtown Macon. Admission is free. Mark will have his new spring tees for sale and much more.
Mark Ballard's column runs each week in The Telegraph. Send your questions or comments to P.O. Box 4232, Macon, GA 31208; call 478-757-6877; email markballard@cox.net; follow him at instagram.com/markcreates; or become a subscriber to Mark's Facebook page.
This story was originally published March 26, 2016 at 4:01 PM with the headline "Threads of Easters past ."