Antique/Thrift Shopping (or How a Singer 99k followed me home)

A few Saturdays ago,  Michel, my sister Deana and I went spent the day together and set about antique shopping in some of the north Georgia towns. Deana had been asking me for weeks to go with her, just to spend time together and to help her find some Depression Glass. I was fortunate enough to inherit my mother's Depression Glass (who got if from her mother, her got it from her mother-in-law) and my sister wants to start a collection of her own. So, we set off in search of something yellow, her favorite color.

Our first stop was a veritable treasure trove of glass. You name it, they had it. We found lots of different yellow pieces in more patterns than I can remember. Deana found a few that she liked, but didn't purchase anything, as it was only our first stop and she couldn't commit to a favorite pattern. While we were at that shop, I found a few vintage sewing odds and ends that I thought were neat, but didn't purchase. On the drive to the next stop, a voice in the back of my head said to actively look for sewing paraphernalia. Sometimes I listen to that voice a little too much and passed on to Michel and Deana that I was looking for "Singer" branded items.

The second stop was a typical antiques store - lots of nice things, but at very high prices. We browsed around, with the usual 'just looking' response when asked if we needed help. I always feel bad just 'window shopping'; those store owners need to earn a living just as much as I do and every just browsing customer is a non-paying customer.  But, as we were about to leave, Deana spotted a little green box with 'Singer' on it. The box was full of attachments for a low-shank machine - perfect for my newly acquired Singer Featherweight! The price was less than I could find online and I scooped them up!

The next stop was the mountain city of Ellijay - a place with antique/thrift stores galore! Browsing around the first in a long line of stores, I gravitated towards a wood domed shaped object, knowing its significance as a case for vintage & antique sewing machines.

I opened it up and inside was a Singer 99 sewing machine. The machine was mostly intact, but missing the critical knee bar controller so there was no way to test the electric motor. The wires were in fair shape, and thinking about it, it would not have been safe to try it out; exposed wiring is not something you want to play with. For its condition and missing pieces, the asking price was a little high and I wasn't willing to take the gamble on how much work it would need, given that high asking price. I spent a good twenty  minutes or so pondering the purchase. How badly did I want it? Did I really need another machine? I lost count at eight machines, but what's one more? Right? Right? Well, rationality took over and I passed on this one. There would be others I was certain.

But I didn't leave empty handed. Deana found me this gem, for a decent price and it goes perfectly with my model 27 treadle from 1899 (machine number 3 in my growing collection).

Several more hours of store shopping yielded many interesting finds, but nothing that screamed 'take me home'. Probably not a bad thing for my wallet in the grand scheme of things. On our return trip home, we decided to stop at an recently opened antique/thrift shop near my sister's home. Deana said it was a re purposed Hobby Lobby, so I knew it would have lots and lots of treasures. There were neat things, but again, no 'screamers'. Although, I was certain I would scream personally if I had seen one more sewing machine treadle cabinet with those nice cast iron legs underneath a piece of glass for a decorator table! For me, you might as well take a Tiffany lamp and smash it against a wall. It hurts my soul to see the wonderful machines cast out as trash and destroyed. Oh the stories they could tell if only they could speak. How many hours of hard labor had each of them seen under the tender hands of their owners? Maybe that is the root of my hidden desire to restore every forsaken machine I come across. Those machines were designed to last a lifetime, many of them have done so with proper care and maintenance; some of them multiple lifetimes.

And so, at this last store of the day, this little forgotten treasure came home with me.

I wasn't going to purchase this machine; it is electric and needs a complete re-wire. That isn't beyond my skill level, but not something I had on my 'to do' list, as it were.  But through the use of modern technology (thank you Android and 4G!), we ran the serial number and according to Singer, this machine was allotted on January 5, 1950. Which in non-collector speak, means this machine was manufactured sometime between January 5 through July 27, 1950 (the next allotment for this model). Why is that important? Well, to a Singer Collector, there is no significance to that particular date; nothing unusual about the machine to make it extraordinarily collectible.  But to me, to me it has meaning. Mom was born in February 1950. This little machine and woman I treasured could very well share the same birthday. Though that I could, I know I can't bring Mom back. But, I could breathe new life into this little machine. Michel saw the gleam in my eye as we discussed the machine's 'birth date'. He knew what its significance meant to me.


Michel bought this little gem for me. Not only because it reminded me of Mom (though she never really sewed), but also because I think he gets a bit joy from watching my excitement as I bring one of these little babies back from the brink of death.  I've been busy working on her since we brought her home. Yes, this machine is a 'her', and her name is Ann. As I progress, I'll post photos so you can see Ann's rebirth. I can't wait to sew with her; perhaps Ann's first project will be a sundress for the grand-daughter her namesake never had a chance to meet.

A Little Family Background...

In response to my newest follower, Naturgesetz (his blog), I thought it would be appropriate to give a quick run down on my family, so as this blog progresses you will know how the players fit into the puzzle. And today is a good day to share my family links, as my "baby brother" and his wife are expecting their first child today, so my family continues to grow. You might want to grab a pen and paper to start your own flow chart - my family connections confuse most people, and a good cup of coffee might not be a bad idea.

To start, I am the 2nd oldest of fourteen. You read that correctly, 14 children. But before your jaw completely hits the floor, I must explain that not all of us are biologically related. I only share DNA with four of my siblings; the other nine are adopted. And in the interest of brevity, I will list them here from oldest to youngest, how we are related, and the status of our relationship. (To keep their anonymity, I will use the first letter of their names to identify them; in cases of duplicate letters, I will add a second to help you keep track.)

"R" - older (also gay) brother, and the only sibling with whom I share both mother and father. He has recently been diagnosed with Stage 4 Colon Cancer. From the day of my birth, our relationship has been tenuous at best.

Scott - that would be me.

"Da" -  sister and twin to "De"; their father was my first step-father. We share the same mother. We were not close growing up, but have grown very close in our adult years. She has given me four wonderful nieces/nephews whom I spoil every chance I get.

"De" - sister and twin to "Da" and also shares the same mother. Growing up, I always felt a special bond with "De". As adults, I think we are as close as any two siblings can be, growing much closer after the loss of our mother. In 2009, she blessed me with my youngest nephew and we have begun spending annual vacations together in the spring.

"C" - adopted brother. Mom was a foster parent, and throughout my life, I have always had at least one foster sibling. "C" was the first, brought to us when he was just 7 months old. While with us, two different families had chosen to adopt him, but for whatever reason, they backed away. When "C" was 6 or 7, Mom called up his case-worker and began the process to make him a permanent member of our family.

"N" - brother. We share the same father and "N" was born the weekend of my Confirmation. It was a tough decision not to come home from college for his birth, but one I do not regret. There is a 20 year age difference between us, and though he is straight, married and about to have his first child, the two of us are very much alike. We are often referred to as "Dick Jr. 1" and "Dick Jr. 2", in reference to being so similar to our father. We occasionally get together for dinner and our relationship has grown stronger as we have aged.

"T" - adopted sister. Mom and my second step-father adopted "T", as well as her biological siblings 11 years ago (Ma, Ph, & Pa). Mom couldn't stand the thought of the four of them being separated and she lovingly brought them all into the family. "T" is also 21, and currently engaged.

"Ma" - adopted brother. Biological to "T". Currently out on his own and has re-connected with his biological mother. After his reconnection to her, he has written off his adopted family.

"Mi" - adopted brother. "Mi" was part of a set of siblings Mom had fostered when "Mi" was just a baby. After 2 years, "Mi" and his biological siblings were returned to their bio-parents. That reunion did not last, and "Mi" returned to our family and he too was made a permanent addition.

"A" - adopted sister. A was/is an extremely troubled child. She had been abused in so many unspeakable ways, that it kills me to know a person could do that to a child. No one else would even consider taking her; but Mom did. And Mom made great progress with "A". Unfortunately, after Mom died, "A" regressed severely and turned violent. My step-father and DFACS chose to institutionalize her. I have tried to reach out to her, but as she is still a minor, now in the State's care, I have been denied any access to her through my step-father's machinations.

"Ph" - adopted brother. Biological to T and Ma. He, too, has issues stemming from his abuse/neglect from his biological family. He has, however, made great strides in overcoming those obstacles and is on track to graduate from high school next year.

"Pa" - adopted brother. Biological to T, Ma & Ph. "Pa" was only 1-month old when he and his siblings were brought to Mom; she always had an extra soft spot for baby boys. (I speak from personal experience.) Out of all of biological siblings, he has the least amount of symptoms from his bio-mother's extensive drug use, and fortunately, he never suffered from neglect; Mom made sure of that. He is an honor-roll student and is becoming a fine young man.

"Ant & And" - adopted brothers; identical twins. Their bio-mother actually chose Mom to adopt them, before they were even born. Mom took special pride in them - her second set of twins. I have a special connection to them - we were all "Momma's boys". When Mom realized that there was no Earthly-cure for her cancer, she asked Michel and I if we would take "Ant & And" and raise them. After much consideration, we agreed; and after Mom's passing, my step-father refused to honor my mother's wish and his promise to her. A few months after her funeral, when I expressed concern to my step-father about moving the boys after school had begun, he sought legal action and had a restraining order placed upon me. I am not allowed to see, or even communicate with "Ant & And". I'm not even allowed within yards of my Mother's home (a plot of land she inherited from my grandparents). Fortunately, my aunt lives a few acres down from there, and I do get to see the twins from a distance when I visit her. My aunt keeps me up to date on how the boys are doing, as much as she can. She tells me that they now have a relationship with their biological grandmother, and from my understanding, it is a very healthy, nurturing relationship.  Last year, I had a chance run-in with "And" at my cousin's high school graduation. He came right up to me, hugged me, and we had a long conversation, with him filling me in on everything in his life. As he walked me back to my car, I kept looking over my shoulder for my step-father, fortunately no where to be seen; I cried all the way home on that 2-hour drive.  Every year I send "Ant" & "And" birthday cards, Christmas gifts, etc. I have no idea if they have ever receive them, but I will keep sending them.

Not so brief as I had planned, but that gives you an idea of some of the people who are important to me. It's a large group with some very strong and loving connections. I'm sure I'll be mentioning them all again at some point, because if there is one thing that I have learned about family, it is this - they will always be a part of you.