CAN It Be Done

Last weekend I visited my parents in Chattanooga. They are both 77 (or 78?). My mother’s health is very poor from bypass surgery, back surgery, and long time grief, among other ailments. But my father, although he recently finished treatment for prostate cancer, is still working around the house a couple of hours most mornings. I know they are aging, and I know there is much I need to know from them before it’s too late.

My mother gave me her sewing machine. She bought her Kenmore 1813 in the 60’s and it still works perfectly. As a teenager, I was always considered one of the best dressed in school. She had an excellent sense of clothing design. She would take me to Miller’s Department store in Chattanooga for ideas and then buy and adapt patterns to suit her. Of course, as a child, I didn’t appreciate that. I would rather be in my shorts or jeans.

It gave me pleasure to work alongside of her on it for a while. We’ve always had our mother/daughter issues and it’s never been easy to work side by side on anything. She showed me how to thread bobbin and we made a few runs on scrap clothes. I’ll never be the seamstress my mother was, but if I could cover a few cushions here and there, and use it for projects, I’ll be happy. But most of all, the sewing machine represents a history, of our lives together – sometimes difficult, but never without love. I love having items in my home that have been passed down from my parents, and grandparents – especially my grandmothers.

I also brought home my Granny Croft’s churn, and my Granny Watson’s canner. I’ll probably never make butter (but who knows!) but I did decide to “put up” some of my cucumbers yesterday. I made 10 pints of bread and butter pickles. I sampled some of the mix before it went into the jars, and they are going to be delicious!

It’s easy to see why people stopped canning. It’s time consuming and a lot of work. Easier to go to the store and buy a jar of pickles. However, I don’t have any connection to those pickles, and although it may give my body some of the nutrients I need, they hardly enrich my soul. The jar of pickles I will eat this winter will be from cucumbers seeds I planted and lovingly watered and weeded. It is food that I grew, with out chemicals of any sort. It is food that I picked, washed, peeled, mixed, boiled and then packed into jars. And, at the end, listened for that “pop” that tells me that the jar has sealed.

Best of all, I did it with my granny’s canner. She fed and nourished her family for most of her adult live by growing and canning her own food. I’m sure she’s pleased.