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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Life Experience
- Published: 09/16/2014
Socks
Born 1935, M, from Rock Hall , Md, United StatesSocks
With the mention of the word “Socks” I wonder how many of you are saying to yourselves, “What can be said about socks?”
Well, here’s my short story about “socks.”
First a little background. I was brought up in the post-depression era, and my parents weren’t well to do. In fact, “poor” better suits their status. I also had an older brother, which meant that I was “treated” to a host of “hand-me-downs” as was the case with many of my peers at the time. Among the bounty of these “hand-me-downs,” were the pants that he had grown out of, the shirts that no longer fit him, but most of all were the shoes and socks that he wouldn’t wear anymore because they had holes in them. Well my mom wasn’t about to let a little thing like a hole in the toe of a sock stop her from outfitting me with them, so, week after week, out came the old sewing bag, which in those days was nothing but a brown paper bag that was formerly used to bring groceries home from the store, and my mom would diligently go about mending all the holes in shirts or pants or whatever else needed some TLC, but mostly it was the socks. She used her fist as a darning egg, just as her mother probably did.
One night, my wife, Anne and I just happened to bring up the subject about sewing and darning, and remarking about how no one seems to darn socks anymore. Yes, we have become a “throwaway society” in the fact that when something, be it clothes or household items or anything that can be replaced by purchasing a “new” one in the store down the street, makes it easier. Maybe, that’s why so much “repairing” was prevalent in the good old days. There weren’t a lot of stores down the street.
I remember one of the few times that I was actually told by my mother that I was to get a “new” pair of socks, and I was to go with her to the local five-and-dime, to be sized. Being sized meant she would take a new pair of socks and wrap them around my closed fist, and if the heel and toe met, this was my size.
You know, ‘til this day, I still haven’t found a logical connection between a closed fist and the size of socks.
Socks(Len Daniels)
Socks
With the mention of the word “Socks” I wonder how many of you are saying to yourselves, “What can be said about socks?”
Well, here’s my short story about “socks.”
First a little background. I was brought up in the post-depression era, and my parents weren’t well to do. In fact, “poor” better suits their status. I also had an older brother, which meant that I was “treated” to a host of “hand-me-downs” as was the case with many of my peers at the time. Among the bounty of these “hand-me-downs,” were the pants that he had grown out of, the shirts that no longer fit him, but most of all were the shoes and socks that he wouldn’t wear anymore because they had holes in them. Well my mom wasn’t about to let a little thing like a hole in the toe of a sock stop her from outfitting me with them, so, week after week, out came the old sewing bag, which in those days was nothing but a brown paper bag that was formerly used to bring groceries home from the store, and my mom would diligently go about mending all the holes in shirts or pants or whatever else needed some TLC, but mostly it was the socks. She used her fist as a darning egg, just as her mother probably did.
One night, my wife, Anne and I just happened to bring up the subject about sewing and darning, and remarking about how no one seems to darn socks anymore. Yes, we have become a “throwaway society” in the fact that when something, be it clothes or household items or anything that can be replaced by purchasing a “new” one in the store down the street, makes it easier. Maybe, that’s why so much “repairing” was prevalent in the good old days. There weren’t a lot of stores down the street.
I remember one of the few times that I was actually told by my mother that I was to get a “new” pair of socks, and I was to go with her to the local five-and-dime, to be sized. Being sized meant she would take a new pair of socks and wrap them around my closed fist, and if the heel and toe met, this was my size.
You know, ‘til this day, I still haven’t found a logical connection between a closed fist and the size of socks.
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Ellen Shutt
03/08/2020Love this story. Sad, but mixed with humor. I remember when the knockout game was going on. Scary times. Good job T.R.
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