Tuesday, March 16, 2010

I was in Thonon today, dropping off my sewing machine to be repaired. It's an old Kohler that belonged to JP's maternal grandmother who was a seamstress. Widowed when her only daughter was just a year old, she earned her living making hats and dresses for the good folks of Luneville. And she had to work hard, as there wasn't a penny of insurance money.

She's planned to pay the premium on Saturday, but the baby (my MIL) was crying and fussing in her stroller. She decided to go right on home and get to the insurance office on Monday.

The next day, her husband died in a motorcycle crash...


So, that's my sewing machine.

The repair guy thought it was great. A real classic.

"An old metal machine from the early 1960's? These things are indestructable." he said.

If nuclear bombs go off, it seems, the only things left standing will be the cockroaches and my sewing machine...


I had it with me in Burkina, but it didn't do well on the trip back to France. The six months in transit were hard on it and it hasn't worked quite right since. I need it working again because I need to be making curtains, cushion covers and cloaks for the girls (renaissance faire stuff).
I also want to give Valentine a few more sewing lessons, as she's been asking me...

3 comments:

oreneta said...

My Grandmother used to have one, and then my mother, and now my great aunt has it. I have dibs on it next. Love those machines.

babzee said...

My first sewing machine was my grandmother's, who'd had it converted to electricity from a foot treadle. I never learned to use it properly. My mother never learned to sew at all (intimidated by her dynamic momma) and I was sick with rheumatic fever for the first two years of Home Ec classes. Be glad your daughters want to share in your domestic artistry!

Joy said...

I have a well used, third (or fourth) hand sewing machine. My mom bought it off of a friend of hers, who had purchased it used and then upgraded, and gave it to my sister to use. I then inherited this machine that didn't work at all well. I sent it with a friend into the City, to an older, semi-retired gentleman (whose listing I found in the Yellowpages) to repair. I received the most bizarre phone call at about 10:45 that night, as he quizzed me on the machine's origins. I explained the provenance of the machine, and that it had rattled its way from Yellowknife, to Calgary, to Northern Saskatchewan. Once satisfied that I wasn't personally responsible for the state it was in, he proceeded to rattle off instructions such as brand of needle to use, type of oil (and when to use it), and many other little nuggets of wisdom. He demanded cash from my friend the next day (no cheques!!), and sent it back, grudgingly!, she said, with cramped, handwritten instructions for me on its use and care... I daren't disobey them! ;)

I am happy that you are willing to teach Tya. My mother was/is too intimidated to teach me, and when I have asked after something or other, she sends me old patterns. *shrug*