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From: "Jerome Buza" <>
Subject: Re: [DVHH-L] Women & Childbirth
Date: Thu, 23 Mar 2006 22:09:55 -0700
References: <232.9181fb0.31545e34@aol.com> <6708b7530603232009u32957e8dna9a5408d7701e31a@mail.gmail.com>


My stories aren't as bad as some that I have read this evening. We did have
flower sack aprons and towels and a dress or two that I had to wear. Mom
took men's coats apart and made decent looking clothes for me. I had a lot
of hand me downs that people gave her. I think that I was 9 before I had a
new bought dress and that was my Confirmation dress. There was a doctor on
my brother's paper route and they gave my mom clothes from their daughter.
Well, I was big for my age and their daughter was small for hers. So, the
clothes were a bit "old" for me. I remember a pair of sling back red shoes,
toeless, with about a 1 1/2 inch heel. I wanted to wear them all the time.
There was a silky striped blouse that I loved and wore with a corduroy vest
the day of school pictures. Mom wasn't happy with me. She had gone to work
to work the census and wasn't home when I dressed for school.
One year Santa brought me a doll, an Efenbee, and mom put it away as she
felt I was too young for it. About 3 years later, she carefully sewed
several outfits for the doll and I got it again from Santa.
I didn't realize that I was worse off than the other kids on the block as
our house was always kept nice, my clothes were clean, and my mom was well
loved by the younger neighbors. She was nearly 31 when I was born and most
of the neighbor women were either elderly or in their early 20's and my mom
was the "block mother".
She was a wonderful cook and crocheted and baked and kept the house clean.
We always wore aprons in the kitchen and sang as we washed the dishes.
Good memories, feed sacks and all.
Margaret
----- Original Message -----
From: "Eve" <>
To: <>
Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 9:09 PM
Subject: Re: [DVHH-L] Women & Childbirth


> Alice,
>
> Fortunately for me we lived in the city. So not too many farm animals.
> Although, on our city lot there was an occasional chicken running around,
> much to the neighbors dismay I am sure. Never had the feedbag clothes
> though I do have that to be grateful for. Although a lot of things were
> taken apart and made into other things. Always took the buttons off
> anything before putting it in the rag bag. I have that tin of buttons
> now.
>
> 3 particular things that come to mind from my youth - memories of my
> brattyness when mom only meant good and all I saw was she was making me
> stand out and be different. I too remember my first store bought dress and
> treasured above all else. It was blue and my aunt bought it for me for my
> birthday, I think I was about 8. I did not want to give it up when I out
> grew it and even snuck it out of the wrapped pkg. mom was getting ready to
> send to Yugoslavia to cousins. She eventually got it back and it went in
> the next pkg.
> The second was my mom's love for all things new. When everyone was
> knitting
> mohair sweaters, my mom made me a pair of mohair knee high socks. I wore
> them the first time very proudly - UNTIL the boys laughed and called me
> "hairy legs" - I came home without the socks and told my mom they got wet
> so
> I had to take them off and they somehow disappeared. She - of course -
> was
> sure someone stole them because they were so special, so a couple days
> later
> I had 2 new pairs.
> The 3rd - was a coat my mother made for me. It was not an easy task for
> her
> but one SHE was very proud of. It was light gray and made out of vinyl
> upholstery material. It could stand up by itself and truly one of a kind.
> Of course I wore it once and was teased terribly for it. The next day for
> school I refused to wear it. I took quite a spanking from both my parents
> for this. My dad could not believe how terrible I was treating my mom
> with
> how much hard work she put into this coat and they absolutely couldn't
> understand my feelings of wanting to belong. I relented after quite a
> long
> (rear bruising) argument, only to take my coat off at the end of our
> cul-de-sak and hide it in the bushes of the neighbors (who worked all day)
> house. I walked the rest of the way to school in February Michigan
> weather
> (for about 4 city blocks) without a coat. My parents only recently
> discovered my deceit. My mom was talking about me as a child and my
> stubbornness and willfulness (this is on video tape) and asked if I
> remembered the beating I took for that coat, about how badly I hurt her.
> I
> explained to them how I had felt at the time, they seemed to understand,
> but
> of course my mom added. Well, I won that battle - you wore the coat. To
> which I added - not exactly - I buried it in the bushes at the end of
> Robbie
> Lane and walked to school everyday without that coat. My dad - burst out
> laughing and almost fell out of his chair. He then added "Dat's MY
> cookie"
> - which is what he always called me when I was little.
>
> Even though I hated all that then I do acknowledge to my parents how hard
> they tried and I know they only did the best they knew how and so very
> careful with every penny they had because they never knew when the rug
> would
> get pulled out from under them again. My husband who was raised by a
> mother
> that bought everything and never makes anything handmade for herself or
> others, especially appreciates what mom does for her family. Everytime
> there is a hole in anything, he puts it in a pile for oma (he refers to
> her
> the same as our children). I love that I have the opportunity to talk
> this
> stuff over with mom and dad now, because they seem to understand how
> things
> were difficult for me too. We all had adjustments to make - and as the
> saying goes - that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I certainly
> tempted fate with my parents ire many times.
>
>
> Eve
> Waiting for spring in Durand
>
>
> On 3/23/06, < > wrote:
>>
>> Eve,
>> 'Homemade' did not arouse good fellings in me during the first 9 years of
>> my
>> childhood!
>>
>> My mother's side job (besides the family, yard, garden,
>> sewing/cooking/baking/ laundry with no running water or electricity or
>> central heating) was raising
>> two batches of 500 baby chicks, caponing them, butchering, and dressing
>> most
>> of them. That took a lot of chick feed which came in feed sacks. Never
>> allowing anything to go wasted, we had feedbag kitchen towels, feedbag
>> tablecloths,
>> feedbag sheets, feedbag pillowcases, feedbag dresses / shirts / and
>> blouses. I
>> hated those blasted old feedbags by the time I was 9 years old!!! Some of
>> the
>> feed suppliers had gotten the brilliant idea of making them in different
>> prints; some were almost pretty, but after living with them for that long
>> all I
>> wanted was a store-bought dress. (I did have a beautiful hand-me-down
>> First
>> Communion dress from my cousin, but after the Mass and picture taking, it
>> disappeared to some other cousin for their use!) There were 3 things I
>> hated about
>> those feedbags: they were scratchy, they looked funky (not in a good way,
>> either), and you had to stand still to be fitted everytime a new dress
>> was
>> made! My
>> first really pretty store-bought dress was made of pale blue taffeta,
>> much
>>
>> against my mother's better judgement, because I had my heart set on it
>> for
>> my
>> Confirmation. Just before leaving for the chuch, My God-Mother gave me a
>> present
>> of some ruby-red fingernail polish and I decided to where it. Never
>> having
>> worn
>> fingernail polish before, you can imagine what was coming. Yup! I was
>> confirmed in a pale blue taffeta dress with a bright red drip of
>> fingernail polish
>> right in the center front of the skirt!!!! OOOO-OOH! --I so did not want
>> to
>> have to tell my mother about that! But out came the scissors, needle,
>> thread, and
>> with a snip,snip she had quickly cut a little piece off the inside hem
>> and
>> appliqued it over the horrible red, just in time for church. I was of
>> course
>> mortified and was sure everyone could see my little patch job, but on
>> reconsidering that day, most people probably were not nearly as offended
>> by the patch as
>> I was, or as embarrased as my mother was (the gossips, you know!) with a
>> daughter who had to wear a patched dress for her Confirmation. :-)
>> Alice in Michigan
>>
>
>
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