Memory Monday- The Button Box

I love buttons. I know, it’s a little bizarre. Ever since I was a little girl I have been completely enamored with buttons. I think it stems back to spending time in my Grandma C’s sewing corner.

Her sewing corner was quite the site. She and Grandpa lived in a very old house with a long narrow lean-to on the back that housed her washer and dryer and sewing area. The floor of lean-to sloped terribly and was made of wood planks of varying widths that creaked and groaned when you walked over them. It was a dark space, with a row of small glass window panes along the upper part of one wall. The ceiling hung low and had also assembled with scrap boards that had aged to a dark brown over the years. My tall Grandfather had to duck to walk into the crowded space. The beloved sewing corner was at the end of this narrow lean to.

Grandma had a cheap accordion folding door to partition off her obscure corner. The problem was that sewing nook was piled high with anything you could possibly ever need for sewing, so much so that when you tried to close the foldable door, it would bow out. She used a thick, strong rubber band to bind the handles of the door together. Stacks of patterns, tape measures hanging by pins, pictures cut from magazines with ideas she hoped to try (I think she invented 'tear sheets'), scraps and scraps of fabric, some small, some large, all stacked and shoved here and there. Remnants of old articles of clothing overflowed boxes. There was a window in her little stitching cranny that flooded the space with daylight. A bare bulb hung from a wire with a pull chain. One of my favorite things kept behind that vinyl foldable door was Grandma’s box of buttons.

Grandma didn’t believe in throwing anything away. Cupboards lined the lean-to filled with all sorts of treasures, most wrapped in heavy plastic bags to protect them. I wonder how many mice scampered upon those treasures over the years they were stored there? But one of my VERY favorite things to do was to sit and go thru the big box of buttons. The colors and textures and shapes of all those fasteners mesmerized me. She rarely threw anything away, and always shopped sales. At fabric stores, and dime stores, she would purchase deeply discounted cards of buttons and throw them in her sewing cranny. If an item of clothing was worn and could not be re-purposed in some way, she would cut the buttons off and throw them into her treasure-trove of buttons. If she recovered a piece of furniture or a seat cushion, she would cut the buttons off and save them for another project.

I learned how to sew from my Grandma. She taught me well. She taught me not so much how to follow a pattern, but how to create things when you didn’t have a pattern. I first learned how to ‘re-purpose’ items from her. It’s a skill that I have put to use many times over the years. When Grandma died, I became the proud owner of her box of buttons. I still enjoy looking thru that box. I often pull buttons out of that box and use them. There are many buttons that invoke memories. Some are very old, some will probably never be used again, but I can't part with any of them. A few weeks ago, when I was altering a satin shrug for Kirsten to wear to prom,  I selected a beautiful vintage button and sewed it on to camouflage the alteration. It was just the special touch that Kirsten needed for her outfit. Coincidentally, the vintage evening purse Kirsten took that night had also come from my Grandma’s belongings. It had been stored in those lean-to treasure cupboards for years, and then stored in a trunk after she moved from the house until her death. I didn’t tell Kirsten that perhaps a little mouse had run over it years ago!