Aunt Mabel

Aunt Mabel was always an enigma to me. During the Great Depression, I only knew her as a distant relative on my father's side, who lived in Boston, and must have a lot of money, because she sent us many boxes of clothing. She must have been a large woman, as the clothing was mostly women's dresses in a very large size, obviously hand-me-downs.

There was a lot of yardage in just one dress, and my mother had a Singer sewing-machine which she put to very good use, making me little dresses, petticoats, and yes, bloomers with banded leg holes. One box, however, included a large, fuzzy white coat.

After some deliberation, Mom decided to make me a snow-suit. These were getting popular as it was, after all, ski country. So she made me a beautiful fluffy, one piece suit. She bundled me up in it and I must have resembled a polar bear cub. The only opening was at the neck. WARM is an understatement. It even had a hood! I was practically invisible in the snow. The only draw-backs--walking in it was a little awkward, once I fell down it was difficult to get back on my feet, and wearing it to school caused some awkwardness in the restroom.

Other items in the boxes were men's wool trousers--brown, black, grey--and Mom's ingenuity knew no bounds. She created pieced quilts of the wool material, embroidered the edges with colorful floss, and backed them with printed grain sack material. They were beautiful. The only problem with the quilts--if you put two of them on your bed you could never move your feet all night, because of the weight. Now when I get into bed with my light blankets over me, I think, "Oh, Mom, I wish you could come back and see how easy life could be for you! And yet, it might break your heart to remember all those hardships." Stilll, thinking back, I wish she could know
how much I appreciate how hard she worked to keep us all warm and comfortable.

And thank you, too, dear Aunt Mabel!