Socks – in two Acts

January 11, 2020 – Socks – in two Acts

ACT ONE:

         I have been cleaning closets and bureaus and probably the cobwebs from my mind – if that can be done.  But, I have to lighten the load. I have to be able to find things. I have to let go.

         Maybe some of you will understand that.  Memories are dear and mementoes are precious – but you can’t have a houseful of them to fall over.

         The above photo was a gift from my Mom. I recollect the note attached to it read “for your sock money” meaning that you should squirrel away extra cash for that inevitable rainy day.  I never added any money to it, I understood the premise but didn’t take it literally.

         My Dad also had a hand in this project.  It is an athletic tube sock that the opening has been glued to a round wooden block, which has a hole chiseled in it.  Dad was on the construction end, Mom was the on the “tickling-up” end of applying a round cut out from a Christmas card for the top of it.   I wonder which one did the “gluing on bit”.

         Surprising, it hasn’t fallen apart all these years and when I found it in the bottom of the drawer I wondered – What is in it?  Is there a “love note” from my parents, something I need to know?

         I have carried this “sock” around for maybe 30 years – from bureau to bureau to bureau and I could feel folded up paper currency or note and the jingle of a few coins in it. The sock was now grubby and it was time for me to cut “The Sock” to discover my “prize” for holding onto it.

         I found a dollar bill folded many times to fit into the top slot, a JFK-fifty cent piece, a quarter, a dime, a nickel, and a penny; alas, no note.

         Total $1.41 – but PRICELESS.

        

ACT TWO:

         On my parent’s first trip to visit us in North Carolina, they witnessed a bedroom furniture delivery.  It was one of those times when you can’t control the timing.

         The furniture had been scheduled to arrive the week before, but the furniture store driver’s wife was rushed to the hospital to have her first baby and my new bedroom suite delivery was delayed until the next Saturday.

         My Mom and I dashed to the bedroom to pull off the pillows and blankets and sheets so that the old head and foot board could be removed, and shoved the bedding into the adjoining master bath.  My husband and the delivery-man removed the drawers from the old bureaus and placed them around the living room.  The old bedroom suite was carried out to the carport. 

         My Dad held the door open for this process. In came the new furniture.

         I scrambled to make the bed up.  After dinner, my husband and I carried back the tall skinny lingerie bureau and wiggled it into the corner of the guest room.  [I still have that piece, in the master closet – I still love it.]

         That evening, as my parents watched, my husband and I sat on the living room floor and fished our belongings out of the old drawers and carried them up to our new bureaus.   

         When we got to my husband’s socks, my Dad had a big chuckle.

         “You’ve drawers of them! Don’t you ever wear them out?” he quizzed. 

         The next thing I notice is my Mom has fetched the empty laundry basket and she sits beside my husband as he looks each “balled” pair over and tosses them to my Mom who in turn tosses each into the basket sounding off “One – Two – Three . . . .” counting them.

         I don’t remember the exact number of socks now, [it was close to 100 pair], but it was a big joke every birthday or Christmas.

         Mom would call and ask for ideas for presents for my husband and always say, “I imagine he doesn’t need socks yet, or does he?”