(yeah, I drew this)
I hate sewing. I flunked Home Ec (the sewing part--I ACED the food part) in Junior High back when it was a required class. We had to make things like gym bags and aprons and put zippers in skirts and I just had no skill in this area. I don't believe any of my sisters can sew other than a quick baste or two and the extent of Mom's sewing ability was to create Halloween costumes. So apparently the sewing gene got lost somewhere at my grandmother. And I'm not the only female who lacks that gene--I found out today that if you Google "I can't sew" you'll find a slew of other women like me!
Why, then, do I have all these thimbles? I just wanted the cabinet a garage sale lady was selling for $10 but since she offered to throw in her thimble collection, oh well.
There are bluejay thimbles and owl thimbles and shamrock thimbles and thimbles with hearts and some with flowers, and even a big one with a windmill.
Five cute little holiday season thimbles.
This is a family thimble that belonged to my grandmother. It's a cheapo but IS stamped England.
Another family thimble came in this little red velvet box. A very tired red velvet box. There's some
detailed engraving on the latch.
The thimble inside has a little maker's mark, three bells inside a shield. Research showed it was made in England by the Charles Iles company in the early part of the 20th century. Probably made of nickel silver. One of millions.
Here's a closeup of the mark.
This last thimble means so much to me. I have not been able to determine the name on the box but whoever it was, was a Jeweler AND Optometrist in the small northern Wisconsin town of Phillips.
My great-grandmother Margaret moved from Canada to Phillips. I always thought my natural great-grandfather was Orville, but nope--great-grandma McK had been married previously and that's when she begat my grandmother Nettie, who I believe was their only child. (Note: when Margaret married second hubby Orville, she was 8 years older than he was. That cougar!)
Nettie married a local Phillips dentist who turned out to be a raging alcoholic and she divorced him (quite scandalous for the time) and moved back with Margaret until she met Walter. He was her reward for having to go through the hell of her first marriage. Judging from stories Mom used to tell us about her grandmother tying her to a tree in the backyard and whacking her with a branch that Mom had to pick out, I'm pretty sure she was MORE than happy to get out of there. Back in those days, though, it wasn't child abuse--just teaching the kid a lesson.
Nettie's initials in lovely script.