precious

i love my sewing machine. it's a 1942 singer, purchased at a yard sale some years back. the previous owner was an elderly woman (who was present for the sale) who had maintained it perfectly from the day she bought it. every attachment is still in the original box, as well as the instruction manual and the tube of grease that came with it. the only piece that is missing is the original wooden case, which had been replaced with a newer, sturdier one. it was a steal at $50.

in my day job, i work with industrial machines (some of which actually date back to the late 19th century, though have of course since been motorized). they're powerful and purr like a kitten when they run. the first time i used my new old machine, i was stunned to realize that it ran like an industrial. of course, a clue may have been the fact that i could barely get it up the stairs to my apartment, as it is one solid piece of cast iron. and i knew from years ago when i worked as a tour guide at a living history museum that in the past, buying a sewing machine was like buying a new car. it was a necessary piece of equipment for the home and was built to last.

the yard sale where i had purchased it was in NJ, on a vist to my mom's house. she commented when i tested it out at her house that the smell of the machine as it ran brought back vivid childhood memories of  my grandmother working on her own machine, mending and making clothes for her large family. it's a really pleasant smell, kind of sweet and homey. a warm smell. and even though it isn't a scent from my childhood, i still find it strangely comforting.

of course, this ties into my love for obtaining objects with a history. this machine was so lovingly maintained, and was obviously quite precious to it's previous owner. who knows how many dresses for daughters and granddaughters it made, how many trousers for little boys were carefully stitched together. how many quilts were sewn with the scraps of garments that had outlived their usefulness to clothe, but went on to provide warmth in another way. my mind boggles at the history and lifetime this machine has seen.

tonight, i came home with pieces for a quilt that i was making. i was just going to prep some things, but i was instead possessed to complete the top and cut the appropriate size of flannel backing. i'll do the finishing after hours on one of the machines at work, but my little workhorse served me very well tonight. i'll admit i've been browsing around, looking and some fancier machines that do all sorts of embroidery and specialty stitches, with touch screens and memory sticks and designing software. and i am hoping at some point to get one for other projects, but that will be my 'other' machine. i will always turn to my beautiful black and brass Singer as my primary tool. i'll use that amazing 1947 buttonhole attachment that makes the keyhole shapes. because while bells and whistles can be fun and exciting, sometimes connecting with simplicity can be far more satisfying.

come to think of it, that sounds like a good principle to live by in general.