Three days ago we received a call as we were leaving for church. Our youngest son was bringing his wife and our grandchild up for a visit. Because of our busy schedule we haven't seen our grandson very often in the past few months. This promised to be a happy day, and it turned out that way.
He passed by model cars and trains on shelves as they were just not
quite shiny enough to warrant attention. As our place is far from child proofed, In the years that follow I suspect a lot of the transitory treasures upon the shelves will wind up on the floor in many pieces, a fair price to pay for a healthy curiosity - but, what are such things for? Better the victim of of a child's curiosity than a trinket gathering dust high high on a shelf. As a child I recall interesting objects on the selves of my Grandfather Crawford's home. He was the proprietor of a steel erection company and had interesting pictures and mementos accumulated from a lifetime of his construction projects. I especially remember two objects a figurine - an Articulated Man - made of nuts and bolts with arms and legs that articulated and a painting on the wall of a Steel Worker on a Beam high over a city below. My folks separated by my eighth birthday and with my Mother, two older sisters and I moved west from Ohio to settle in Colorado. Over time the memory of the two cherished objects grew dim and finally vanished.
My Mother, Beatrice Connor Crawford, was raised in a poor family in the hills of western Pennsylvania along the Allegheny River. Many children raised in the section of Appalachia came to an unfortunate end but Mother's family, though poor, was proud. The five "Connor girls" had a well earned reputation of putting any man in five counties in their proper place. As a child they used to teach me to say, "The only thing a man's good for is to light a ladies cigarette" and they meant it. In the end all of the six children, five girls and a boy, managed to live productive life's and pass along the best of the family heritage to the next generation.
Mother never remarried. Through the years that followed and, until near her death, she served as a bookkeeper for numerous small businesses. When we moved to Colorado she worked full time meaning that my two older sisters and I had to learn to fend for ourselves. With the move west I became a "latch key child" long before anyone used that term.
Breakfast was easy and Mother would pack a lunch for school the night before. When she arrived home a simple dinner would be prepared. Pancakes, being quick and very cheap, were a favorite and as a result to this day I can't stand the things. We ate a lot of other odd things that were cheap and easy to prepare, beef tongue and pickled pigs feet among them; we always had a meal on the table. Delicacies were bananas, canned deviled ham, Vienna sausage or the rare package of dates or figs. I still don't readily eat bananas because they were so cherished in my youth that they were reserved for the adults.
Odd how things learned in youth habituate into advancing age.
Over time I learned simple cooking and baking and how to take care of my own washing and ironing and, I taught myself how to sew which brings us to this days story.
Just after our son, Josh, and his family arrived he asked if we had a sewing machine. I told him where it was stored in a small cabinet in a corner of the kitchen floor next to the range. On his hands and knees, he promptly he emptied most of a cabinet onto the floor insisting, "There is not a sewing machine in here." I told him to look again and he pulled everything else out of the cabinet still insisting, "A sewing machine is not in here." Finally I pointed to a cardboard box in the back of the cabinet and said, "Try that."
"I knew it was in here and I was only testing you." - Sure thing. Asking if he knew how to use the machine he answered, you bet. Now, sewing is a near universal skill of the Crawford men - I wonder why - so I was not surprised at his answer. The next hour brought his true skill level into sharp relief.
We wound up with sewing machine parts all over the table. Thread unwound on the floor and a fair amount of unusual language.
"What are you sewing?", I asked.
"Velcro tabs on diapers", he responded.
Lindsay, Mrs. Crawford, said, "Don't mess them up they cost $400." We were to hear that echo for the next hour and more.
Try as he could all came to naught. Finally, after and hour, Josh did finally manage to get one sewn on. It was well affixed but not very pretty.
"How many do you have to do?"
"Twenty-eight!"
"This looks terrible you can't put something like this on $400 diapers!" Exclaimed Lindsay.
We weren't particularly surprised at Josh's rusty ability to sew but at that point we found out the new Mrs. Crawford had the full spirit of the "Connor Girls."
When Josh said, "No one will see them", Lindsay pounced.
After supper and great conversation we bid them farewell and elicited a promise to come back soon.
So ends our story for today with this after thought.
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| Steel worker on a Beam |
Family is a blessing - all the trinkets we value so much have little meaning when compared to this.
j
