June 1, 1926, was my mother’s birthday. Had she been here to celebrate, she would have turned 100 years old this year.
My mom, Hilda, was my first introduction to sewing. She wasn’t a professional seamstress by any means, but she made drapes, hemmed pants, and tackled simple alterations on an old Kenmore sewing machine with a knee pedal. To me, that machine was pure magic.
I took an interest in sewing at a very young age and loved playing around with it whenever I could. One of my earliest memories is trying to make clothes for my Barbies. If you’ve ever sewn doll clothes, you know that’s not exactly a beginner-friendly project. Tiny sleeves, tiny seams, tiny patience!
Then there was my first quilt attempt. Most beginners start with squares. Not me. I decided a curved Double Wedding Ring quilt sounded like a good idea. Clearly, I was a dreamer from the very beginning.
Mom was a homemaker for many years. When I started school, she took a job as a teacher’s assistant. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if that was just her way of continuing her helicopter parenting in person all day, every day!
She loved to clean and she loved to garden. Cooking? Not so much. Her cooking was perfectly fine—she simply didn’t enjoy it. Given the choice between pulling weeds and making dinner, I know which one she would have chosen.
As time marches on, it’s hard to believe she would have been 100. Even harder to believe that I’ll be turning 65 on July 2. Medicare, here I come… assuming there’s anything left of the program by then!
I have a sister, Judy, who is 13 years older than I am, and a brother, Art, who is 10 years older. Art is married to my sister-in-law Patti. Both Judy and Patti quilt.
My sister was a very late starter. In fact, I think she collected fabric for at least ten years before sewing a single stitch. She simply couldn’t bear the thought of cutting into all those beautiful fabrics she’d collected. Honestly, I understand that completely.
It’s funny how many of life’s memories can be tied to something as simple as a sewing machine. When I moved out and started my own life, my parents bought me my first sewing machine. Of course, it was a Kenmore from Sears. It felt like a rite of passage—a passing of the torch from one generation to the next.
Looking back now, I realize that little sewing machine in our home helped shape so much of my future. It sparked a passion that would become a career, a business, and a lifelong creative adventure.
Rest in peace, Mom. You are missed, remembered, and appreciated more than you could ever know.
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Happy 100th Birthday!
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