Sew the masks!

My great-grandmother, Ava Vista Cramer Ewers

It's a time-honored tradition, women supporting the war effort with fabric creations. Civil War -- rolling bandages. WWI -- knitting socks. WWII -- making and selling quilts for the Red Cross, all this and so much more. In times of war and national disasters, even before women were common in the workforce, organized efforts brought the traditional domestic skills of women into production for the greater good.

Now we see people making protective equipment to deal with the Covid-19 pandemic. Across Youtube and all platforms of social media, patterns, encouragement, and videos are shared. While we don't have the social aspect of physical sewing circles (with tea and cookies, no doubt) pictures and stories are widely distributed online. And yes, the needle arts are still produced mainly by women. 

At one time, I was a moderately skilled seamstress. I learned to sew on the machine in seventh grade, though my mother had instructed me in hand-sewing and embroidery from about the age of six. I'm very grateful to Miss Miles, my Home Ec teacher at Bremerhaven American High School in Germany. First semester of 7th grade we made aprons. Of course, we did. It was 1962. My mother's best friend, Joan Lindquist Flory, was an extraordinary seamstress. She guided me through shopping for fabric, provided tools and instruction and didn't even scold me when the jumper I made turned out so odd. I had pre-shrunk the dress material but not the lining. Bad move. 

I never developed my skills to a professional level, but I made many of my clothes in high school and college, including my prom dress in 10th grade. 

When I worked as a historic interpreter at a 19th Century farm in Illinois, I sewed all my own period clothing as well as my daughter's. Later, for my business, I spent fourteen years running around the wilds of North Carolina taking history programs to classrooms. My work clothes were the ones I made, the dresses, aprons, hats, cloaks, petticoats, corsets and drawers of a farm woman 150 years earlier. There was always something that needed to be replaced or repaired.

My parents gave me a sturdy, turquoise, metal Singer for graduation from high school in 1968. It stood the test of time right up through December when I made a new Christmas stocking for my brother. When I called it into service in February it had given up the ghost. Maybe it could be revived but I decided it was time for a new one. I don't sew much anymore, a little quilting, incidental costumes, mending and hemming. My fingers don't work as well as they used to; after 5 hand surgeries, they're not what they once were. Kind of like my old sewing machine.

I ordered a low end, light-weight machine online and got it last week. Now I'm starting to make masks. Jill wants me to make head coverings she can wear in the operating room. I'd like to make a busy-apron for my mother-in-law who has dementia. It feels good to sew on a smooth machine that has way more bells and whistles than the old one could have dreamed of.

So I'll take my place in the tradition of women responders, wielding needle and thread in service to others despite the on-going controversy about whether or when face masks are useful. It's what we do and it sure beats housework!