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Though
small, this
room brimmed with
purpose. Green shelves
they designed and built
defined Mom's sewing nook
where she worked for hours on end;
the brown Singer machine humming
near fabric bolts, threads, patterns, and pins
as she gave life to our fam'ly wardrobe.
Opposite the stitching hub, Dad's shelves, too,
housed supplies for his craft: books, paper,
pens, typewriter, and erasers.
I typed many a paper
after pep talks from Dad
extolling virtues
of hard work and,
when all else
fails, "butt
glue!"
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Author Notes
With five children, my parents utilized every inch of space in our home. The dark green shelving unit Dad built divided the room we equally referred to as our sewing room and study. Mom was an exceptional seamstress and made literally everything I wore until I was in high school. Even then she sewed my drill team outfits and long dresses for dances. She made my wedding dress! In the '60s and '70s, there were many fabric stores. At the beginning of the school year, our annual outing was selecting fabrics and patterns for our wardrobes.
Dad was a university professor and author. Aside from the hum of the sewing machine, his half of the room was my quiet retreat when papers were due. Often I got stuck, with little motivation to finish. I complained the assignment was too hard. I can hear Dad's lecture still: "When all else fails," he advised, "get out your butt glue and stay in that chair until your paper is written!" Ah, Dad. It was good advice, then and now!
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