Mamaw's Magic Sewing Box

My Mamaw loved to sew. Well, it was a love/hate relationship, actually. She loved to pick out patterns, buy fabric by the bolt-load, and plan what she was going to make. It was the sitting down at the sewing machine that gave her trouble. She had the best Kenmore sewing machine you could buy at Sears, but it was still not good enough to escape her anger (and a few choice curse words.) As children, we learned quickly to be very quiet and stay away from Mamaw when she was sewing. That fear was as much from her as it was the pins scattered in the plush carpet.


She made me several dresses as I grew up - a flower girl dress for my uncle's wedding, a dress that matched a big rag doll that I used in a talent show, matching dresses for me and my cousin for Christmas, and many more. I have pictures of them all and I still get that sweet Mamaw feeling when I see them and know she made them for me.


When she died several years ago, the amount of fabric and patterns found in her house was astronomical. Some of it was passed to family and friends, but much of it was thrown away or burned. Not much demand for green plaid polyester nowadays. But a few very special items survived and I have two of them. They are both on my grab-first-if-there-is-a-fire list.

This sewing box is special. Super special. I was excited when I got it just because I realized how handy it would be for mending things - everything in one place with lots of thread colors to choose from. But I didn't realize its magic until years later when it hit me that every single time I've used it, I've always found the EXACT thread color I needed to mend a shirt, dress, stuffed animal, whatever had some new and unexplained hole. Every. . .single. . .time. Its one of those things that I don't question too much. (Don't want to rub the magic off.) But when Caitlin came home last weekend and asked me to repair two dresses - a navy one and a goldenrod yellow one - I pulled out the box and there they were. Navy, no big deal. Everyone has navy. But goldenrod yellow? It was there, too.


And if you look closely, you can find spools of thread that cost 18 cents. If you sew, you know that thread has apparently been hit HARD by inflation. There is even one with the old WalMart label on it, and the spool is styrofoam. Cool.

Those little bobbins are magic, too. They have all fit in every sewing machine I've used them in, including the one I borrowed from a friend a few weeks ago. That is pretty magical if you ask me.

The other sewing box I have is one that used to sit next to the couch.

Mamaw would fuss at us for trying to sit on it.

Inside the lid are pins and needles, just as she left them.

What makes it even more special are the random items I found inside it.

Buttons, an empty "Honey Do" list - Papaw would really appreciate that, an unopened crochet hook, a hat pin, some yellow rick rack, paycheck stubs from Levi Strauss for Mamaw, stubs from Alcoa Aluminum for Papaw, a bank deposit slip, and folded up in the bottom, a tiny piece of a newspaper. When I opened it, it was a newspaper clipping about me. That really got me.

I have always been a collector of things. I admit it. I will probably be on the show Hoarders at some point in my elder years. But there is just nothing like touching things to bring back sweet memories. Those little sewing boxes are like treasure chests of memories - and its all magic to me.