December 4, 2017 – The Button

         I wore black to my Mom’s funeral.  I have two standards in my closet, one funeral outfit for spring and summer which consists of a navy and ultra-thin white stripped top and a full navy skirt.  It does not wrinkle and I keep it in a special place in the closet for that “go-to” emergency outfit when I need it and it is always ready.  [If I could have 10 outfits exactly like my, go-to-for-whatever, that fits perfectly, that wears well, is easy care for, and looks great on me – I’d be the happiest woman alive. Unfortunately, I don’t have that.]  The other standard funeral outfit is the black wool double-breasted blazer with something that coordinates.  Just about everything in my closet coordinates with that black blazer.

         I wore a black hunt club print skirt to the funeral with a silk top that picked up one of the colors in the skirt with the black blazer and flat shoes to walk the rough ground of the cemetery.

         During Mass at one of the quiet times, we stood and then sat. I can’t remember which moment - except that one of my blazer buttons decided to drop off at that moment.  The ping of metal on the hard floor seemed extremely loud and several in the family glanced around.  I did a quick glance around – trying not to be obvious a few times but I didn’t happen to see it.

         Right then I thought about my Mom showing me how to sew on a coat button creating a thread shank.  I was in high school at the time taking  business courses including shorthand on my way to being a secretary following in my mother’s footsteps. She showed me how you wrap the thread around the underpart of the button to create a shank, then come through to the back of the material.  I remember her saying,

         “You never know when you will need to sew a button on your boss’s suit jacket right before a meeting.”

         Then she reminisced about the buttons she had sewn on the suit jackets of various bosses she had over the years.  In her later years, when she saw someone sewing she would say,

         “I once sewed a button on Judge Gould’s robe.”  The family must have heard that line dozens of times while she was being cared for in her last few years. In fact, she said it to me the last day I visited with her.

         So, I “wasn’t there” for a few moments at my Mom’s funeral and I find I am “not there” more often now thinking of happy memories and special moments with Mom.

         Later, my brother Ken handed me the button.  How nice I thought, as I was wondering where I would find a set of buttons or if I actually had one saved from years before.  I slipped the button into my blazer pocket and forgot about it.

         Today, I noticed the button was missing and it was in the pocket  right where I’d slipped it.  I have a special bureau drawer that has those items you need only once in a while  - but you need them immediately without digging.  I pulled out the square of felt that has a couple needles stuck in it and I pulled out the black button thread.

         I sat down and lovingly sewed on the button – the same way my Mom taught me.  Not all memories are just sweet memories, some are informative and once when I was at my second job my Boss came to me and said, "My button has come off, is there a tailor in town?"

I said, “Give it to me, I’ll sew it on.”  [Back then all secretaries kept a little sewing kit in their desk drawer for emergencies.] I made fast work of it as I had been shown by an expert, my Mom.  My boss was appreciative and the next week he brought another of his wool blazers to me so that I could sew a button back on.  The art of sewing on a button is good for job security.

Ironic that I am heading out too another funeral as soon as I get home from my Mom’s and it is “button time again” with memories of a lesson well learned.