Extinction

Grandma's Treadle

Maw-maw, the little girl cried. I want to sew on your sewing machine. The child would sit and listen to the sewing machine's rhythmic clackity clack as her grandmother pieced together her Easter dress. The smooth rhythmic sway of the Pittman arm was quite reminiscent of a train as it worked to cause the up and down motion of the sewing needle. Maw-maw's sewing machine was so different from her mother's. It was quiet and lacked the low hum of an electric motor. A true treasure that the little girl could not fathom. How could a machine work without electricity. Even a television needed electricity. When the girl would be grown someday, Maw-maw would sew her a quilt to keep her warm as she moved on to a life and family of her own. But today, the obnoxious child only wanted one thing, to learn to use Grandma's treadle.

No!! Maw-maw would reply with thoughts of disastrous bent needles and a child screaming in pain as the needle pierced the flesh of her little finger. Go play outside!! Sulking, the little girl left the room and walked out into the oppressive heat to chase chickens or look for giant grasshoppers in the banana trees. Sulking was replaced with fear as the poor little girl thought about her cousins next door who lurked about waiting to show her their latest works of fileted lizards.

Please Maw-maw!! Please!!! The poor little girl begged with all her might as she walked back into the room. I don't want to go outside. I want to learn to sew. The girl thought of her mother and how she forbade her from touching the electric treasure that sat in the back room away from prying little fingers. Maw-maw was saddened with thoughts of guilt at keeping her grandchild from experiencing the great treasure of creating something beautiful. Grandma thought about how she might be the one that could save this child with her great influence from a dark seedy neon life. After much thought, maw-maw threw aside her current project and produced some scrap material proclaiming I shall be the one to inspire you to a life of greatness. Maw-maw thought about how this skill was passed on by generations of women who gained self-confidence and some were even able to support their families with this skill. After all, clothing was a necessity and everyone wanted freshly sewn clothes or quilts for the winter. With great confidence, the grandmother thought there is nothing that can be messed up here as she proudly gazed upon her Singer model 27 with a vibrating shuttle that only today she had oiled for a smooth operation. After all, she only used Singer oil as suggested by the salesman that had visited her home and educated her on the greatness of this machine and Singer oil only decades back.

First child you must learn to thread the machine. There will be no sewing without a properly threaded machine. No...the girl cried. I just want to sew! This reply gave the grandmother some pause as she thought about the young people and their lack of patience with older much more knowledgeable generations. Fine, Maw-maw replied as she led the soft white cotton thread along the path of loops and holes until she came to a stop at the needle. Although her eyes were unable to see the actual eye in the needle, she was able to pass the thread easily from left to right through the eye. I still got it, the grandmother thought to herself. Much better than that plastic self-threading electric monster that poor little granddaughter had to live with at her parent's home.

Now, let me show you what to do, Maw-maw said. You see this? Maw-maw pointed at the large cast iron lattice flat pedal that balanced on a rod a few inches above the floor. Maw-maw went on to explain this is what will make your sewing machine go. It works like a seesaw at the playground. When the little girl heard this, it brought her great joy as she remembered the fun she had last Easter teetering in the air and balancing as her cousins held down the other side of the seesaw. What she did not remember was how they jumped off bringing her crashing to the ground.

Pay attention child!! Maw-maw said as she tried to wake the child from her daydreaming. See, you put your left foot here and hold it down to start. The child watched as grandma placed her foot on the far left corner of the pedal. Then your right foot goes here on the right side towards you. You got it child?? You understand?? Yes Maw-maw, I understand. You have to push the pedal back and forth. See child, as I do this it moves the rod which moves everything else to bring the needle up and down to sew the fabric together. You got it??? Well??

This gave pause to the child as she thought about it. Truth was, no she did not understand, as she was still looking for the electric plug she knew had to be hidden somewhere on Grandma's machine. But the child's reply to Grandma...Yes, I understand. I can do this!!!

And so, began one of the most memorable afternoons of a grandmother and grandchild's relationship as the child took to the Singer chair. Her toes touched to the pedal as she clinged to the edge of her seat. She stretched her left leg and brought her big toe to the spot her grandmother had shown her. Right foot was a little easier to place. She moved the pedal back and forth, but realized nothing was happening. Grandma laughed...I see you really do know it all. Honey, you see this wheel over here, her grandmother said pointing to the hand wheel. You must pull this toward you to help it get started.

Ok, I understand, said the child. As she repositioned her feet on the pedal. She pushed down with her left foot and placed her right hand on the wheel. As she pulled the wheel, she began pushing the pedal back and forth. The Pittman rod began to bob up and down causing everything to move. The fabric started to move through the feed dog of the sewing machine as the needle gave a double bop to place the thread properly in the fabric. This happened over and over as the child started to pick up speed...then suddenly everything came to a crashing stop.

No!! Grandma yelled. The granddaughter, unsure of what just happened, began wailing as though she was feeling the physical pain of the sewing machine. Stop crying... just stop it! We will figure this out, Grandma said. Gently grandma pressed the lever up and the foot came gently off the material. She attempted to pull the fabric from the sewing machine, but it was stuck in the tiny hole the needle would go through to bring the thread to the bobbin below. It appeared that the sewing machine had attempted to eat the fabric, well that's what the granddaughter thought as fear began to strike her heart again. I don't want to do this Maw-maw, the child wailed. I don't know what happened.

Yep, grandmother thought to herself feeling a little self-gratification at being right for once. But instead the grandmother said to her granddaughter, you should have a little more patience and learn a little more before trying new things child. She felt a little angry about the rat nest she knew she would find beneath the feed dog of the machine and the thread she would have to carefully attempt to cut and brush out.

I tell you what, grandmother said. You go play outside. I will clean this mess up. We will try again another day but right now I need to clean out this thread so I can finish your Easter dress. The granddaughter was tearfully grateful to leave the mess behind. Later on, when they both had more time, grandmother did teach her granddaughter to use the treadle sewing machine. And the granddaughter became quite proficient at it and even figured out how to quilt with it. As the granddaughter moved into adult hood, her quilts became sought after when people learned about the tools and methods she used. The wooden Pittman rod sits on a shelf in the granddaughter's house as a reminder of the generations of sewers that came before her. That afternoon was soon forgotten as her good memories grew like vines in her mind. Life is a lot like a seesaw or a treadle sewing machine. It has it's ups and downs, but for some reason people always remember the ups. And that is what happened. Also she learned electricity cannot replace quality. And sometimes we just have to step away...