If you are less than 50 (or maybe 40) years old
I doubt you have any idea of what I am asking.
I am of the generation that knows about this
arning of socks thing.
When I was a little girl it was one of my chores.
Mostly it was my father’s socks that needed to be arned.
He was always wearing through the toes of his socks.
My gramma taught me how to arn.
It wasn’t hard but did take some practice.
At first, the repair was kind of lumpy
but with practice and the right tool I improved.
The most important thing was to use a arning egg.
Some of them have handles but this is what Gramma had.
It helped keep the stitches smooth and not too tight
so the sock was not uncomfortable where the mending was done.
After awhile I came to enjoy the task.
It was not difficult and I could daydream
while doing it and it felt good to do something
that helped my mother.
arning was not high on her list of things to do.
These days if my socks look like this
I throw them away!
arn, I have better things to do than arn.
This rocking chair that now sits in my guest room
was given to my Gramma by Joe, my Grampa.
I don’t know why we called him Joe, it wasn’t his name.
Anyway, he gave it to Gramma 95 years ago
when she was pregnant with her first child, my mother.
In this chair, she rocked her two children
and seven grandchildren.
It is no ordinary chair.
To me, it says LOVE.
Today at Patricia’s Place it is Wednesday.
It doesn’t matter what the rest of the world says
this is my place and if I want it to be Wednesday so be it.
Today I am linking to
Word for Wednesday
My word is
clumsy, incompetent person, derelict, alcoholic,
destitute or down and out person
That’s the official definition, but my gramma and ma
used the word quite often to refer to their husbands.
Neither husband was incompetent, derelict or destitute.
They did however sometimes have a bit too much hooch
and that made them seem a little down and out and definitely clumsy.
When I was a kid I thought it was a term of endearment and maybe it was.
No one seemed angry with the men when they were in stumblebum mode.
In fact, there was a lot of laughter when the stumblebums were being…clumsy.
Now, if stumblebum mode got to the falling down and embarrassing stage,
I’m not saying it ever got to that stage, but if it did that could be a whole ‘nother word.
We’ll just leave it here with stumblebum.
I thought I had found the perfect place with the best people for us to live with quietly and peacefully. The people here surprised me and I am not easily surprised. They talk sweet and nice, but they don’t love us or even like or understand us and they certainly don’t respect us. When they started teasing and playing rough with the kid, my kid, I knew we had to leave before they broke his spirit. So, here we are on the road again looking for a safe place to live, a sanctuary, a family.