I am fortunate to have as a member of my family my Aunt Effie, who knows how to sew. My earliest memories of her are of hearing her talk about sewing, prefacing a statement with, “I’m going to make …”

Aunt Effie’s daughter is a few years older than I am, and each year, when I was a child, after my cousin outgrew the pretty dresses Aunt Effie made, they came to me. This was always a much-anticipated occasion. Sometimes I knew that a certain dress I had admired would be in the box of hand-me-downs. But there would be surprises, too – dresses that I didn’t know existed, and all of them like new.

The Aunt Effie-made dress from my childhood that I remember with special fondness was made of cotton cloth – as most of them were. The fabric was a yellow-green apple print on a white ground, trimmed with bands of solid apple green on the skirt and short sleeves. The dress had a little round white collar and wonderful yellow buttons up the back. It had pockets, too, the best feature of all. (To this day I spurn dresses that don’t have pockets.) A narrow, apple-green sash tied in back. The skirt was cut in a full circle and when I twirled around and around, it stood out from my legs in a way that greatly satisfied my little-girl sense of the rightness of such things. Wearing that dress made me feel terribly important. It appealed, I think, to my innate sense of drama. And green wasn’t even my favorite color.

I remember how upsetting it was the next spring to discover I had outgrown the dress and that it now fit my younger sister. I was certain she could not appreciate it the way I did. She was more at home in corduroy pants and a polo shirt than in a dress with a skirt that had a swirl factor.

When I was a teenager in the late 1950s, Aunt Effie made a quilt for me. Each white muslin square in the quilt is appliqued with a butterfly blanket stitched with black embroidery floss. The quilt sashing is a pink calico print. After serving many years as an “extra” blanket, it now hangs in the stairwell of my house, out of the way of direct light but in a place where I see it each day. Looking at it always gladdens my eye and reminds me of what loving hands do to keep a family stitched together.

Aunt Effie is 89 now and no longer sews because of fading eyesight. A few years ago when she knew that her vision was dimming and she would have to give up sewing, she decided to sew as much as she could for as long as possible.

It never occurred to her to be daunted by the change looming in her eyes. Nope – Aunt Effie went to her sewing room and got busy. She chose fabric and patterns and put the sewing machine pedal to the metal. She cut and pinned and hemmed. She ended up sewing herself enough clothes to last the rest of her life. In one closet hangs blouses, both short- and long-sleeved; in another hangs slacks, and in a third hangs what she calls “suits” – matching tops, skirts and slacks.

The shade is drawn in the window of Aunt Effie’s sewing room and her sewing machine is shrouded with a white cloth to protect it from dust. I would give a lot to know how many miles of fabric she put through that machine as she kept herself and her family clothed, mended and cared for all those years.

But this I do know: If I am lucky enough to make it to age 80, let alone 89, Aunt Effie’s determined spirit and commonsense example will guide me well.

Snippets

To obtain free patterns for a lampshade, scarf, socks and beaded wire necklace featured in the current issue of Interweave Knits Crochet magazine, visit www.interweavecrochet.com or send a long, self-addressed, stamped envelope to Gifts and Goodies, 201 E. Fourth St., Loveland CO 80537.

Ardeana Hamlin may be reached at 990-8153, or e-mail ahamlin@bangordailynews.net. Tell us about your Aunt Effie or another sewing mentor in 100 words. Include a photo if one is available. Send to Common Threads/Ardeana Hamlin, Bangor Daily News, P.O. Box 1329 Bangor 04402; or e-mail to ahamlin@bangordailynews.net.