Because I Want To

My family was very poor when I was a kid. My parents married very young and immediately started having children. I am the oldest of 5 kids and when I was growing up we did without a lot of things that most American kids took for granted. At the same time, we had other things that most American kids didn't have - like steak a couple times a week most of the year (it's nice to have grandparents who own a ranch!), lots of home canned and frozen fruits and veggies. And love. I was raised in a family with lots of love.

One of the things we didn't have was a lot of new clothes. My mother sewed a lot, yes, but many of my dresses were hand-me-downs from older cousins. That was ok with me for the most part. I had big feet even as a kid, so new shoes in new styles after the age of 12 - well, I had the same "old lady" shoes in 6th, 7th and 8th grades. There were no other shoes in my size 10 that were suitable for a kid that age. I learned young not to love shoes - loving shoes only caused me disappointment. Even today my 11.5 shoe size makes it almost impossible to find stylish shoes, but I'm satisfied to stick with the basics. Most of the time.

One other thing that I loved was new socks. New socks did not happen very often. Instead, my mother would mend and remend socks until they were practically all 'mend' and no original sock. I hated them. I cannot emphasise that enough. I hated mended socks. Darned. Patched. Lovingly done by a mother who cared enough about me to see to it that I had socks on my feet even when there was no money to buy new ones.

One of the things I learned to do quite young was darn socks. I got quite good at it - I just hated to wear them after they were darned. Even at Bible college I had a couple gals ask me to teach them how to darn socks because they had no idea how to do it. Here in Ukraine I had another American woman ask me how.

I told myself that I would never willingly wear darned socks again once I left home. Yet, when our kids were growing up and we were so short on money we don't know how we actually lived through it - I darned my kids socks many times. Never once did I hear a complaint. Now - I don't know if that is because they didn't tell me, didn't vocalize it, or if it's because they really didn't care one way or the other, or were just glad their toes weren't poking through their socks. Someday I'll ask them.

Here I am in Ukraine. I have probably 3 dozen socks in my sock drawer. I have a package of new socks in my closet that has one or two pair taken out. I have black socks. I have blue socks. I have gray socks. I have a pair of reddish socks. I have gobs of white socks with gray toes. I have a bunch of socks with white toes. Because the last 3 pair of shoes I bought were size 12 due to the fact that I couldn't find size 11.5, I wear 2 pair of socks at a time now to keep my feet from sliding around in them giving me blisters when I go out walking - and I go out walking often. Oh - heaven will be SO NICE when I either have shoes that actually fit, or else I won't need shoes at all. (hear a longing-for-heaven sigh)

So tell me - why this?Because I want to! Because I am not ashamed of darned socks any more. Because I realize just how much my mother loved me and worked hard for me. But mostly, yes mostly - just because I am a hedonist and wanted to have multi-colored darned socks for some strange reason (taking your shoes off in someones home here is a must - and I always bring my own sandals because, let's get real here - who in the world besides me has size 11.5 women's slippers lying around their house? and wow - now I can show off my darned toes.) hahahahahahahahahaha

Oh - I love being 55 and not caring about such things any more! If only I'd learned that lesson 50 years ago!