This was my Grandma’s sewing box. She kept
various needles, and small sewing tools in it. I remember first seeing
this when I was perhaps three or four.
I also remember the
shooting star that streaked over my Aunt Josey’s house out in the
country. The memory of this box, and that star are commingled. At this
time in my life,..I’m pushing 60. I’m fascinated with family stories.
Both mine, and others.
As every writer knows family is a rich
source of material. Long time fans will have read the many stories I’ve
written about my life, and family here, and other blogs.
‘this’ is my grandma’s little sewing box. She bought it in the early
1920’s just before my mom was born. In 1972 when Granny passed away the
box was passed on to me.
For most of the years between then, and now I’ve used it as a medicine pouch.
Americans or as most of you call them Red Indians use these pouches as
protective talismans. One puts personal scared items in a skin or cloth
bag. It’s then “blessed” or in some way consecrated by your shaman.
You then wear it or keep it very near for life. It will protect you,…or so tradition sez.
Grandma I can’t pass the box/pouch on. One doesn’t. You take your pouch
with you to the next life. So in my case It’ll be cremated with me.
(The above is a repost from years ago. I just read it again, and thought it would would be good to share it again.)