corduroy

When my daughter reads this post, she will cry. When her grandmother reads it, she will smile. Because it’s about one of those oh-so-ordinary events that reflect what family is and can be far more than we realize at the time.

It was 1989. Kate was in kindergarten. My parents were visiting and, if memory serves me, they took part in Grandparents’ Day at school. The facts now grow fuzzy…precisely as fuzzy as the small Corduroy bear that was a favorite in Vassar Elementary’s just-starting-out room. The kids knew the Don Freeman book it accompanied by heart–about one stuffed bear being forgotten, found, and given a pocket to hold an ID card so he would never be lost, again.

Kate–protector of stuffed creatures and delegator extraordinaire–announced that THEIR Corduroy needed a pocket and HER grandmother would sew it. Which Mom was delighted to do, particularly because the distance between her home and ours limited these small, everyday grandmothering connections.

I remembered this incident today for two reasons. First, it’s 11.11.11–the date whose parallel lines make it visually perfect for National Corduroy Appreciation Day. http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/11/10/corduroy-fans-prepare-for-the-fabrics-day-of-all-days/ 

And second, I am missing one small grandgirl deeply. So, here’s to the day I am present to sew pockets. And here’s to families that turn small moments into sweet life.

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One Response to “corduroy”

  1. Oh my. If Kate didn’t cry, I sure did. 😉

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