Several decades ago I made most of my clothes, and in the process I gathered a substantial collection of buttons. Long after the clothes were out of style, the extra buttons stayed with me.
From a box stamped with the name of a store now defunct
they tumble to the table in mass confusion,
clanking, bouncing, colliding, sliding,
stopping dead,
staring up, waiting,
unaware that their mates, worn to
high school and college and my very first job,
lie in a landfill in some distant state.
I stare back, remembering
their faces of gold and silver, of gray and black,
of red and blue and tan and white and
orange.
Did I wear orange?
Ridged or smooth, shiny or matte,
with four holes, two holes, or one hole in a shank,
they match nothing in the house –
but I might need one.
I sort them by size, then by color,
then by light, dark, and fancy,
and drop them one by one
into drawers of fresh plastic.
Two years have now passed and
I haven’t seen them since,
but I know they are there waiting
like a quickly read diary
from decades ago.
I stopped making my clothes when it became less expensive to buy them than to buy patterns, fabric, buttons, etc. That might have been the first time a change in the world surprised me and altered the way I live.
I really like this poem and can relate. I had many homemade clothes growing up, and I still have a big container of assorted buttons! Write on, Sally!
It’s fun to hear that other people have similar collections. Thanks for your comment and encouragement, Imo Jeane.
Very nice, Sally. Thank you.
I’m glad you enjoyed it, Michael. Thanks for saying so.
I inherited my Great Aunt Ruth’s button collection. Maybe we should have a button show and tell party. Once parties are a thing again.
I would love to see your great aunt’s button collection, Anne. When I can.
Nice arrangement in the picture. And, a good comment about the changing world. It is sad that artistry and craftmanship are changing so fast in a society of electronics.
I had a great time meeting my own challenge to make carefully selected and placed buttons look like a haphazard array. Thanks for letting me know I succeeded.
Very nice. Your pictures are always interesting as well.
So descriptive! I wish I had my Grandma’s button collection. She made all my clothes until I was a teenager.
I’m glad you enjoyed the poem, Lynda. I’m stunned by all the comments similar to yours that have appeared here and in personal messages.
Sally
I am fascinated with the sights that give you inspiration to write a poem. What an imagination you have!
Keep writing, girl. You have talent.
Thank you, Beth. I can’t explain or predict the spark that fires up the writer in me — but I certainly enjoy it when it comes.
I loved this! I have a tin, I keep my buttons in. For a long time now, the only buttons that I add or those extra ones that sometimes come with a garment. I love my ti
n of buttons! It was a collection decades in the making.
So you know exactly how I felt. Great fun to know! Thanks for telling me, Becky.
Lovely, Sally. Explains why I keep hanging on to lots of old buttons from my mother. Stay well.
I have a couple of button tins – for just in case. I really never found any buttons in the tins that would go on a garment that I was making, always had to buy ones that were current. And besides, I mostly didn’t do buttons, except on the kids clothes. Making button holes was a pain. I took tailoring college and learned how to do bound button holes. But, I hang onto those tins because ones of them was from my grandmother, who died in 1965. There are treasures in there, I just know it. I wish I had the stories that came with the buttons.
I had no idea how many other people hoard buttons, Carol, until I read all the comments below and just as many in personal email to me. Thanks for your comments — they made me smile.
I wouldn’t use the word hoard, that seems to be to be an active thing, I certainly haven’t been actively seeking out buttons!!! They are just there.
Fair enough, Carol.