This past week, I read a couple of blog posts about old sewing machines–an old treadle machine that belonged to Grandma and an old Viking that belonged to a late Mother-in-Law. They made me think about my first sewing machine. I was probably around 14 or 15 (back in the days before electricity my boys would say) and I decided I was going to learn how to sew. I scoured the papers for a machine I could afford. Trust me…I couldn’t afford much! I ended up with a machine that looked like this:
Nope, this isn’t the original. I didn’t have enough sense to know that someday I would yearn for that beautiful wooden cover. In a sense, I was proud of that machine. It was all mine! And then again, I was ashamed of it…it was so old. No, I had to have newer someday. I plugged along on it. It witnessed my joy at completing a project and my frustration at unsewing my many mistakes. But, I learned to sew on that old machine all the while coveting something better. If I knew then what I know now… How about a nickel for every time we’ve said that!
When my aunt got a Singer Golden Touch and Sew (who remembers when that was the cat’s *#$@**^% ….pajamas?), I inherited her Kenmore. Good bye to moldy old past and hello to a glistening future. A future filled with zig-zags and buttonholes and blind hems! WOW! I was in high cotton!
Thus began the progression of machines. From that old singer through a few Kenmores to a couple of Berninas to the awesome Bernina I now own. And, although I’ve liked every machine I’ve ever owned, I don’t think I miss any of them like I miss that old Singer that I kicked to the curb so many years ago. Don’t know if I’d still be sewing on it, but I’d like to reconnect with the memories hidden under that beautiful wooden cover.
I’ll bet you have memories of your first sewing machine!