Priceless Treasures – Part 1
I am now in the portion of my basement sewing area that I pull from on a regular basis for my projects. The next best thing to having a grocery pantry is a stash of sewing and handwork supplies that are just a set of stairs away.
Many individuals have added to my stashes. For some, the craft project that looked like it would be a shoe in once the supplies were purchased realized that the investment of time and energy just wasn’t their cup of tea. Have I ever turned down items that have been brought to me by disillusioned consumers? No. The memory of limited resources in my childhood have made a permanent impression in the gray matter located between my ears.
Before I was even a teen my Mom introduced me to the wonderful world of darning socks. She would hand me the wooden potato masher to assist in stripping the socks with holes in the heels. The hole was positioned over the flat portion of the masher and the mending of the socks proceeded. There was no option of throwing socks away with holes that had rubbed in their heels well after the cushion within the shoe was worn away. Even Kevin was the proud owner of hand-mended socks at a time when he stayed with his Grandma Lena in the mid 1980s. There is something in the “need for thrift” that remains during times when it may not have to be adhered to as stringently.
I know I have more paper for various types of use, including correspondence, than I need. I know, who writes letters anymore? To me the stash of paper goods represents to me that I have choices when a need arises. As a child the red covered wide lined tablet with the Indian on the front was only for things that were required for school. At home when Calvin, Michael and I wanted to draw pictures or keep score in a card game, our choice was an array of scraps of wallpaper that Mom had saved. It could have been from a wallpapering project in our home or perhaps from a project my Mom helped with at one of my aunts. Regardless of the print on one side the back was ours to use and enjoy. I was a World War II baby and resources were measured very carefully.
It’s hard to share this treasure as needlework and thread crocheting is not done by many. I have been crocheting out of this bin since the early 70s when my mother-in-law Esther Schafer no longer needed them. It’s hard to make a dent in it as it represents a lot of lineal feet.
So . . . there am I. 
When I have choices in the items I can use to create projects I do not have to first visit a retail store. I cherish that. When the idea for the next creative project hits, I shop my stashes to make it work. Needless to say the value of some items in my stashes are out of this economical world.
It’s also very rewarding to share what I have with those that may be in need. My children consider my basement sewing and craft area as a “one stop shopping area.” If I have it, anyone can leave with the wares in hand and . . . I have also been known to deliver. Today was just such a day. I had extra and someone remembered that I had offered it via a visit. It made my heart sing to see the new owner of what I had to share leave the premises. The new owner wore a smile that made it feel as if it was a million dollar sale. My Dad advocated that giving and sharing is done not until it hurts but it until it feels good.
In life, please give and have no remembrance of it, or take and remember it always.