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Remembering Mom

I have vivid memories of my mom at the sewing machine when I was a child. I watched in awe as she turned pieces of fabric into clothes for my sister and I. She studied fashion design at The Art Institute of Chicago where she learned to draft her own patterns and produce clothing that looked store bought. My sister was taking Home EC and from my view was on her way to fashion freedom. I desperately wanted to learn too. I begged my mom to teach me to sew and eventually she relented.

My mother had many talents; teaching was not one of them. A combined lack of talent and patience led to frustration on steroids. The blue overall pants, I so desperately wanted to sew myself,  were constructed beautifully by her. I hated wearing those pants; a symbol of my failure.

I never lost my desire to learn and eventually I did.  I also learned that talent does not make you a good teacher; something I wish more people would recognize. The saying really should be: Those who can, do. Those who can teach, inspire those who can.

I think of my mom often when I sew. My passion for quilting didn’t really blossom while she was alive, but I’m sure she would have had an appreciation for them. Mostly, I think of her when I walk into a classroom of adults anxious to learn a new skill. The irony is that her lack of teaching skills is what makes me a better teacher.

So, on this Mother’s Day, I remember my mom. I’m grateful for inheriting a sprinkle of her talent, and for the memories only an old mechanical Singer can generate.