My grandmother Sarah (“Surcha” her Yiddish name) came by ship from Poland without any shoes at the age of 5 to join her family in America. I do not know if she was accompanied by anyone on the voyage. And, unfortunately, I do not know much about her youth, but she grew up in a Yiddish household. She was fluent in Yiddish and English, and she was a seamstress. In the early 1960’s, when I was 6 to 8 years old, my grandmother had a “kupka” business. These were women’s hats, bonnets, which tied under the chin. In those early days she built her business by introducing herself to large Manhattan department store buyers by bringing them her home made cookies, which apparently worked quite well. The “production line” was at my family’s home kitchen table on the upper West side of Manhattan, where she and my mother, also a seamstress, used a Singer sewing machine to make the hats. My role was to fold the item, place it in a clear plastic baggie, secure it with a thin piece of masking tape, and carefully stack them into a cardboard box for delivery. This went on at the kitchen table for 2 or 3 years, until the business apparently flourished, and the process was partly taken on by an outside manufacturer. My memories of the sound, and function of the Singer sewing machine, including the foot pedal, are so vivid that it seems like yesterday. So when I found it in a storage bin yesterday in our Florida home, still in it’s original valise, dirtied and in need of a good overhaul, I of course kept it. I will clean it up, and hopefully the expertise still exists to get it functional again. Then, I will finally learn how to use it, having never been shown then due to my young age. She may not have expected me to do all of that, but I am sure it will bring a smile to her face. I loved my grandmother, she helped raise me, and was always there for me. My wife and I named our daughter Sarah in her honor. Grandma is still so very much in my heart for many reasons, including that Singer Sewing machine. Peace and stay safe.
I post this personal story of myself after telling it to a best friend of almost 35 years.