Mike and our son Clint were preparing to leave for the farm Thursday morning.“I’d really like you to get the button box for me,” I said and proceeded to describe to Mike what it looked like and where to find it. Clint’s ears perked up. He knew immediately what I was talking about. Did he say he’d look for it? No, he said, “I’ll get it for you.” And he did.
The button box is a half gallon ice cream container (cylinder with lid) that my half-brother Chuck decoupaged for Mother when he was in Boy Scouts.
“I can tell you what I don’t want,” announced Chuck as we divided Mother’s things, “and that’s that old box I made from an ice cream container.”
Mother was sentimental about the container. After all, Charles had made it for her. I don’t know if it was made to be a button box or if it was just a box to be filled with something and she designated it “the button box.”
Mother never threw away a button. Before making a rag of a shirt or pajama top, she would clip off the buttons and toss them into the button box, often (but not always) threading matching buttons together. If extra buttons came with a new coat or blouse, into the button box they went. Sometimes she had buttons left over from a project. Into the box with them. If she was discarding a garment with unique buttons and trimmings, she might snip them off and put them in the button box. A stray button? Yes – into the box, but first she would keep it on the kitchen window sill, in the event its proper place might come to light.
My mother didn’t take the loss of a button lightly. Shirts and blouses were routinely checked for loose buttons and repaired as part of the laundry process. (Remember -- It was not the age of t-shirts.) If I lost a button off my blouse – or my coat (heaven forbid!), Mother would lecture me on how it could have been avoided. Unless modesty prohibited, it was better to remove a loose button rather than risk losing it. I was also to look around the house and at school for a lost button. If the button had to be replaced, we might check the button box for a match. And match it must or else all the buttons had to be replaced. That’s what you wanted to avoid – replacing all the buttons. And did Mother re-use her buttons? Seldom. As much as Mother believed in saving, she also delighted in new things. If she was making a new blouse, for instance, she wanted pretty new buttons. And so that explains why the button box is full of buttons.
I figure Chuck made the box in the late ‘40s – about 60 years ago, but of course, some of the buttons are older. Over the years family members were allowed to go through the box looking for that “just right” button or special vintage pieces, and that’s fine. The buttons should be appreciated or used.
In fact, I wanted to retrieve the button box from the farm because I needed buttons for a special project. We’re making pillow covers at embroidery club and I need three buttons for the back of mine. I didn’t see what I wanted on the racks at Jo-Ann’s and happened to think that I might find something usable in the button box.
While I value Mother’s buttons, I don’t know that I need to cherish this old ice cream box with designs chipping off. I think I could find a prettier, sturdier box. Chuck has said what he thinks about it. Perhaps it’s time to let it go. KW
6 comments:
I throw spare buttons that come with my garments into a Christmas tin in a cupboard above my stove. I can just barely reach high enough to lift the lid and slip the buttons in. I suppose I probably have quite a few. I don't think I've EVER had to sift through to replace a button.
Call Frankie and Mike before you get rid of the button box. That could be highly prized "folk art".
"What would you have to have for that decoupaged ice cream container?" asks Frankie.
"Gee, I dunno. It's been in my family for 60-plus years. Meant a lot to my mom."
"Bear in mind now, Kathy," continues Frankie, "it's a cool piece but it needs some work."
That is a really BIG button collection. I'll bet lots of families from your mother's generation had button boxes. I began with a neat little carved unfinished wooden box given to me by my mother-in-law in 1956. I hardly ever re-use any in my collection. I do squirrel away those extra buttons you get with a suit or blouse, though.
When I was on Jury duty about 7 years ago, I met a very nice woman that makes button jewelry. She sells her items at flea markets and craft stores. She makes brooches by layering buttons on each other. These designs have different colored buttons and are really unique. Bracelets are made by using small figural shape buttons on elastic. Her stockpile comes from "Button Shows" held in convention centers. Often, she finds rare vintage buttons. Czech glass is prized by collectors. Bakelite, rhinestone, wooden & military. She has them all. Now that's recycling!
Interesting about making jewelry from buttons. Mother liked to collect things, but I don't think she considered herself a button collector. She didn't buy buttons but enjoyed saving what came her way. And while I was at home I don't remember that we ever dumped out the contents of the box and discussed the buttons, so I have idea where they came from except for the few I remember.
I save buttons, too. I rarely buy any--I can usually make do with what I find in my button tin. Which is almost overflowing!
I love the buttons you're going to use on the pillow--they're perfect.
Another thought on button collections. A long time ago (pick your generation), saving buttons had a real purpose. A button could always be put on a garment with matching cousins or to replace a button with anything that would fit in the button hole. A nice set of buttons saved from a worn out garment (as Kathy's mother did) could find a new life on new clothes. Buttons were saved to be used on clothing.
Not so with old garments. If a dress was worn and had to be retired, it was cut up and the pieces found a new life in a quilt, potholder or maybe an apron. These small pieces of cloth were not put in the same category as buttons. A button had to be reused as just a button.
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