Lace, Sabbath and a Soldier

A dress just wasn't complete without a lace collar

When I was fourteen years old (1933) I crocheted lace collars and sold them for a dime apiece. A dime was a lot of money in those depression days. I often helped my elderly neighbor quilt when I went to see her. But that day I took my lace work to do while I visited.

“Don’t bring that inside” she said, “Shame on you for working on the Sabbath!”

I sure was surprised. I had watched her feed her chickens. She would point her finger at an old hen, call her by her name, and yell “DAMN IT - SHOOO! You’ve eat more than yur share!” Would you believe that each chicken knew its name and minded her!

No wonder that I was surprised at her for keeping the Sabbath Holy that day, especially as I had heard when she was so angry at her son for smoking in bed. He had burned a huge hole in a quilt we had made. She called him, her own son, a whore-hoppin’ son-of-a-bitch!

Ten years later (1943) her 42 year old son she had called a whore-hoppin’ son-of-a-bitch was drafted into the war. He was not in good health, but he had to fight through Africa, Italy, and France and into Germany, anyway.

His poor old mother was left to survive on six dollars a month from our government. Food was rationed. The only people with a little money were the ones working in defense plants making ammunition or other supplies for the soldiers.

The woman's son lived for many years and loved to talk about D-Day