A Gift to my Heritage

I asked my Dad what he wanted for his birthday. He turns 62 this year. I ask him every year what he wants. Sometimes he knows, sometimes he has to get back to me. This year when asked, he paused, then said, "Do you know what I want? I would really like some nice handkerchiefs. I can never find any nice ones in stores. I would really like a few handkerchiefs. Maybe you could make me some? Out of really soft cotton?"

"Really? Dad, you know nobody really uses those anymore."

"I know."

"Most people use disposable kleenex. Its much easier to find those in the stores and they are probably more sanitary."

"Well, yeah, if you leave a soiled, wadded-up handkerchief in your pocket forever." He seemed bothered that I didn't get why he wanted handkerchiefs and a little defensive.

"Dad, if you want handkerchiefs, I will make you some. No problem. I have the perfect fabric for the project."

"It has to be really soft."

"Yeah, I know." As an allergy sufferer with sensitive skin I understand this better than most. "This is really good stuff. High thread count, white. It's perfect. I've been saving it for just the right project. You'll love it."

"Ok." Pause. "I just remember my father always carrying a handkerchief in his pocket. He was always prepared to wipe a tear or hand it to someone in need."

"I remember that about Grandpa too." My paternal grandfather grew up in Randolph, UT home to crazy cold, windy winters and super hot, dry, dusty summers. No doubt a handkerchief was in everyone's pocket in the 1930's and 40's. They were probably used daily to wipe the sweat from your brow, to blow your nose or to wipe your wind blown, wet eyes.

Dad then continued to school me on why handkerchiefs are so much better than kleenex.
They are softer, more absorbent, more personal, and reusable. What happens if you leave a nasty kleenex in your pocket and it goes through the wash? Mess, that's what. But a handkerchief comes out clean with the wash. One regular kleenex never does a big job well enough, you always need more. And they get wet in your hand and are soggy, gross. Blow too hard and you blow through them. One good handkerchief is all you need. Store them in your underwear drawer and put one in your pocket as you dress, you'll always be ready that way.

It dawned on me that kleenex is a modern, lazy way of side stepping simple laundry. Some businessmen convinced us all that we need them. Kleenex is great for classrooms and restrooms. It has it's place, but for personal use handkerchiefs are king. Sometimes old fashioned is just plain better. He's convinced me on this one.

Our conversation continued and we discussed size, hem style, and the details of the project. He requested what he called "a narrow hem" which I told him was probably a rolled hem. It requires a special machine foot, which fortunately I own. 

 

I set out to make my Dad a set of 6 amazingly soft handkerchiefs. I used a left-over scraps from a high thread count sheet set. The fitted sheet had torn after time. I had already used most of the sheets for quilt backing, but had just the right size just waiting for this project. Gotta love an upcycle.

(a rolled hem around a corner is tricky!)

 

As I cut, pressed and started to sew, I thought of how this birthday request from my dad so simply epitomized him. When asked what he wanted, it was something that would help him love and care for others. He requested something personal, handmade by someone he loves. Even more personal, it reminds him of his own father and something he misses and loved about him. So very much my dad. Thoughtful, loving and tender. (Speaking of loving and tender, isn't she an angel?!)

 

 

How often is a gift an obligation? How often is a gift request just a link to something on Amazon? Or a gift card? How often is a gift last minute and rushed? How often is a gift impersonal? Perhaps too often. Most of us are grateful for generosity and try to give gifts that we hope the person will really enjoy/use/love. But my Dad, well he takes gifts to a different level. He doesn't want much, and what he does want is usually meaningful.

Hmmm . . . now how do I teach my kids that? Definitely something to think about as we head into the holiday season.

Well, here is his package. I suspect this gift means more or as much to me as it will to my father. I'm 37 and he is still teaching me. Happy Birthday Dad. I love you.