STORE BOUGHT PANTS

    STORE BOUGHT PANTS

My Mama was a very talented seamstress who worked in our house to serve the needs of all who inquired of her services. If they brought some fabric and a pattern Mama would create the piece no matter how simple or difficult. She made the Cheerleader outfits, suits and dresses for the ladies. She would alter things bought at the store, which did not fit the person just right. She served the very well to do as well as the poor and not so fortunate. She made the bridesmaids gowns for some of the larger weddings back in the fifties.

She altered the brand new things from the store as well as the old clothes, which had become too small for the person. Many of the military brought their uniforms to have the insignia changed when they were promoted. She made the drapes, which adorned the windows of many of the finer homes in the county. She created “slip covers” for worn sofas and large stuffed chairs of many of those same houses. She “pegged” the legs of blue jeans for the teenage boys when that was fashionable.  

In short she did it all by working long hours throughout the day while at the same time preparing outrageous meals three times a day and then worked late into the night after supper. It gave me an unusual benefit of being allowed to stay up late as long as I did not distract her. I spent many a long evening lying on the floor near the sewing machine and watching her. I recall the fascination of her pedaling the machine in the early days and then one day the “Singer man” showed her an amazing thing. It was a contraption consisting of a small electric motor attached by wire to pedal switch on a little box on the floor and operated by her foot. After that the cast iron pedal was disconnected and remained idle for the duration. I missed watching her foot rhythmically maintain the speed of the machine as she fed the material into the machine where the threaded needle did the stitching. However that was progress and before too long the old machine would be abandoned as a brand new Singer Slant O Matic, which had all of the bells and whistles, replaced it. I proudly possess that machine today and will one day give it to someone in the family.

She did all of this while cooking for three adults in the household along with my brother and sister as well as me and she carried meals next door to Grandma’s house. Oh and she also found the time to manage a flock of chickens and attend a bountiful garden, which required many hours of hoeing and pulling weeds. Furthermore the bounty from that garden would be canned and put up in Mason jars for the meals to come in the wintertime. Later we would acquire a freezer for storing those same vegetables. Progress was replacing traditional methods of doing things. I am sure that I grew up during the most joyous time in the history of the world. We were all very happy indeed. 

Until I started to school Mama made all of my clothes as well as those of my sister June. When I was in the eighth grade we had a Sadie Hawkins day in the springtime. Mama and June chose my outfit for that day. It consisted of a pair of charcoal gray Bermuda shorts from J.C. Penny, which sported a hiney binder just above the back pockets, pink knee socks and white buck shoes. She bought some matching gray and pink material and fabricated a beautiful shirt. The body of the shirt was gray and the yoke was pink as well as the sleeves and it had gray epaulets. I was one proud little sucker when I got off of the school bus and walked toward the eighth grade wing. I paraded around all day long. My sister was the best-dressed girl in the school always.

June was always quite content to wear a custom made wardrobe but even at a very young age I secretly longed to have clothes, which had been bought ready made from the store especially pants. The pants Mama made me always had elastic sewn into the waistband sometimes a pocket or two on the front or rear. Little boys need pockets you know. About the time I entered the first grade Mama started buying my pants at either Sears or Pennys although she continued to make almost all of my shirts for a good many years even into high school. It is funny how you can remember some things from so very long ago. I recall very clearly the first pair of pants that I had from the store. I must have been about four or five because I was just tall enough that my waist was a little bit above a coffee table. It was denim jeans with full-length legs, pockets (four maybe) and elastic waistband. Actually they looked just like the ones Mama made except they had all of the pockets and a manufacturer’s label. They were special and I only wore them on occasion. I think the very first time I wore them was one weekend when we went to visit Aunt Sweet and Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Kelly. We had been to church and had all gathered at Uncle Kelly’s. I believe Aunt Dell and uncle Brunell were there along with others possible. At any rate a number of ladies as well as men were seated around Aunt Evelyn’s living room and I was the only child in the room. I was as proud as a peacock in my new pants and I stood by the coffee table in the midst of the room with the adults seated all around. Uncle Kelly leaned forward from where he was seated and gently caught my waistband and gave it a little snap. I beamed with pride. A little while later he did it again and then he said those look like girl pants to me to which I responded no they are not. I remember then and there that I wished they had belt loops and I had a belt. Uncle Kelly would do that again and again when I was within his reach each time he would say those are girl pants. Finally I couldn’t take it any more and I stood beside the coffee table across from the adults and reached my little fingers into the fly which was sewn into the pants (but did not have a zipper) and I pulled my little penis out and said see there these are boy pants. Uncle Kelly’s face and balding head turned red and the ladies froze because I turned to display the fact that they indeed were not girl pants at all. So there it was, I had store bought pants and they were indeed boy’s pants.      

Jimmy Smith

A tale from the Goshen  about “A MAN’S CROSSING FOOLS HILL”