A Stitch in Time: Learning to Sew with Mama and the Beloved Chair Cushion

AI version of me around the time this story happen. That bowl cut!

Yesterday was my mom's 80th birthday, and even though she's no longer with us, I wanted to share a fun little story about the time she helped me learn to use her beloved sewing machine. It's a tale of creativity, determination, and the special bond we shared. So, grab a cup of tea and let's journey back to my third grade year.

When I was in the third grade, my classmates and I often complained to Mrs. Kell about the hard plastic chairs we had to sit in. One day, she jokingly suggested that if we made our own cushions and they looked good, we could use them. Despite her jest, I saw this as a golden opportunity. Determined to take on the challenge, I went home and told my mom about the sewing project I needed help with. I had already planned the design: a perfectly square inch-and-a-half piece of foam, which I knew we already had, covered with navy blue denim fabric from my mom’s stash.

Mama was eager to help. She guided me through cutting out the fabric, pinning it up, and teaching me how to use her sewing machine. Together, we made straps and sewed the fabric to create a cover for the foam. Once it was ready, I proudly brought the cushion to school. Mrs. Kell didn’t believe I had made it at first and even looked for evidence of a tag. But when I explained that I had planned it out and my mom had helped me learn to sew, she realized her little joke had backfired and she couldn't retract the permission she had given. My DIY and craft skills were clearly in my blood, and I used that cushion the entire year. Unfortunately, my fourth-grade teacher was not as accepting of the idea of a seat cushion, and my days of hard plastic chairs resumed.

That cushion didn’t just serve me in third grade—it became a staple in our household. It transitioned to the desk chair for our typewriter, later our Radio Shack TSR-80 Color Computer, and eventually became my mom's sewing chair cushion. It’s funny how a simple project can create lasting memories and become a heavily utilized item in the home.

Looking back, I realize that this project was more than just a solution to an uncomfortable chair. It was a lesson in creativity, determination, and the value of learning new skills. It’s a reminder of how DIY projects can bring joy, practicality, and a sense of accomplishment.

I still cherish those moments with my mom and the memories we created together. The older I get, the more I appreciate the skills and values she passed on to me, just as I shared in yesterday's blog about how she would write letters. Her influence has undoubtedly shaped my love for crafting and creativity. Even now, I continue to find joy in DIY projects, and I always think of her when I embark on a new one.

I hope you enjoyed this heartfelt tribute to my mama and the beautiful legacy she left behind. If you have similar stories or memories of your loved ones, please share them in the comments below. Your feedback and shared memories help build a wonderful community. If you'd like to support this effort, your contributions are greatly appreciated. Even small gestures of support mean a lot as we continue this journey of storytelling and connection. Thank you! ❤️

From Pen to Paper: My Mama's Legacy of Letters

Today is my mama's birthday, she would have been 80. Ever since she and my dad passed, I find myself thinking of them more often, especially around holidays and milestones like birthdays—happier times filled with cherished memories.

My mama was a wonderfully quirky lady with a multitude of talents. From crochet to sewing, tole painting to ceramics, and even painting on canvas, there was nothing she couldn't do if she put her mind to it, often with minimal directions. I loved that about her. She excelled in certain dishes we had regularly and was a wizard with old-fashioned confections like fudge, divinity, peanut brittle, and pies.

For a lady who was constantly doing something with her hands—whether washing and folding clothes, doing dishes, tending to my sister and me, or even performing duties as room mother when we were in elementary school and sometimes working a full-time job—mama always found time to sit down and write letters. She saw value in Christmas cards and spent hours on them, not just signing "Love, Dee and family," to friends or if it was her family "Love, Pheroldine and family, but writing heartfelt letters to friends and family.

Here's a fascinating fact about my mama: she didn’t have a middle name. Her birth name was Pheroldine Day. With such an unusual and distinctive name, who needs a middle name anyway? Unlike other kids, my sister Becki and I couldn't even attempt to forge our mama's name on notes sent home from our teachers. We could never spell it right, and the teacher would instantly recognize that our mama didn’t sign and erase her name to try again. My sister once told me a story about her entire class attempting to spell our mama's name, and no one could quite get it. When my mama met my dad, he didn't like the idea of calling her Pheroldine, so he asked if he could just call her Dee. From that moment on, everyone but her side of the family called her Dee.

Whenever my sister needed a gift for a friend's birthday or Christmas, mama's go-to gift was a cute stationery set. I was always a bit jealous that I never got one like those girls; even my sister had a few herself. I'm not sure who I would have written to anyway, as I didn't really have long-distance friends or family connections to write to, so it would have been a waste of money, I guess. Still, mama had an address book filled with friends and family. She always had time to sit down with her writing pad, box of envelopes, and stamps to write to people related to us or people my sister, dad, or I had never met, like her best friend since grade school, Nancy.

I'm not sure exactly what mama wrote about, though I know that when it came to writing to her mom, my grandmother, there was always a mention of something mama didn't like about my dad or something bad that I had recently done. I wasn't a bad kid, but I guess when I did something noteworthy, it made it into her letters. Grandma didn't really like my dad and seemed not to be too fond of me either, but I was okay with that because my favorite grandmother was in Alabama—the one who didn't make me eat dishes containing massive amounts of tomatoes, bell peppers, and onions at dinner, knowing I hated them.

Even though we had a Smith Corona Galaxie Deluxe manual typewriter, much like the one I use now, and later on my mama's Brother electric typewriter, she always preferred writing letters by hand. Even if she didn't receive a reply, she would continue writing because she loved it so much. I used to think she wrote because the cost of a stamp, envelope, and a few sheets of paper was cheaper than long-distance phone calls, but it was more than that. I believe it was mama's way of what we now consider blogging. Rather than putting her thoughts out there for anyone to read in hopes of being relatable, she was making personal connections one letter at a time.

The older I get, the more I realize how my parents' actions resonated with me in ways I took for granted as a kid. Do I regret giving them hell and being a bit of a rebel when puberty hit me full tilt boogie? No. Had I not made the decisions I did in my teens, I wouldn't have seen the world or experienced things I probably never would have otherwise, though there are things I would have handled differently in some of our not-so-great moments.

In recent years, I've continued my mom's tradition of writing Christmas cards, though now more to friends than family. I don't know most of my family on mama's side, and many who would have known me have passed away. A few years ago, I thought I would buy myself a stationery kit like the ones mama bought for my sister and her friends. To my dismay, these have become relics of the past—at least the ones with more than just one or two sheets of paper per envelope and extras like a pen, matching stickers, and stencils. It baffles my mind because they used to be available everywhere, from Woolworths to TG&Y, K-Mart, and True Value Hardware. Now, not even Walmart, Office Depot, or Staples carries them, or at least not for anyone over the age of 5. If you can find a Hallmark or greeting card store, you'll discover they aren't much of a commodity in those stores anymore either. I've bought a few from Amazon, but even they don't hit the same.

I hope you enjoyed this tribute to my mama and her beautiful legacy. If you have similar stories or memories of your loved ones, please share them in the comments below. Your feedback and shared memories help build a wonderful community. If you come across any charming stationery sets or unique finds, I'd love to hear about them! Your recommendations could bring a bit of nostalgia and joy, continuing mama’s tradition. If you'd like to support this effort, your contributions are greatly appreciated. Even small gestures of support mean a lot as we continue this journey of storytelling and connection. Thank you! ❤️ ❤️