This Reminds Me

I lost a button on my dress today, so tonight, I dragged down my mother’s metal button box, hunting a replacement.  Julia heard me rustling in the closet and came running to “help.”   (Only takes twice as long when you have “help,” right, mothers?!)

Mom’s box is filled with hundreds of buttons  a few still on their original cards, but the vast majority just jumbled loose.   Little animal-shaped buttons from childhood dresses.  Stars from an old Navy uniform of Dad’s.  A bumpy black button that I remember from one of Judy’s jumpers.  A swirly raspberry-colored button from a church dress of Mom’s that I used to fantasize was a real fruit.  Funny little buttons left over from the year Mom made Christmas stockings for all of Judy’s students.  A metallic “B” Mom always planned to affix to one of my blouses.  Sturdy black and blue buttons of every size, shape and thickness.

Julia found several buttons that would do.  We eventually settled on the closest match, and I listened to her happily chattering to herself as I used the “ouch” (needle) to sew it on.  I heard “Vow, Mom” several times, as well as “Look at this,” and “Pretty.”

I loved watching the cool buttons running through her warm little hands.

My brother David and I used to play in the button box for hours on end.  We stacked the buttons.  Rolled them.  Inserted them into and retrieved them from body parts.  Balanced them.  Flicked them.  Created patterns on the bedspread.  Spit them to see whose could travel the farthest.  Made up stories about their origins.  Spelled our names with them.  Put them over our closed eyes and made scary faces.

My brother David and the button box in 1962.  We played with it by the hour.  We also played with naked, bald Barbies, occassionally fashioning them clothes out of popped balloons.  David later nicknamed them our “Chernobyl Barbies.”  But I digress.

Like my recipe box, it occurs to me that Mom’s button box is really a history box.  It’s got bits and pieces of my whole family history rattling around in it.  And the history is a lot like the buttons - sometimes smooth, sometimes rough but always colorful.

You know what buttons do?  Besides providing endless entertainment for curious children?

They hold things together.

Like the past the present.

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