my grandmother's scissors are older than I am and I still won't let anyone else touch them
I got a pair of sewing scissors that belonged to my grandmother, she carried them in her apron pocket my whole childhood and I'd watch her snip thread and cut fabric and trim little corners off pieced blocks, never setting them down, just keeping them right there at her hip like they was part of her. She passed in '84 and I got those scissors and honey they are dull as all get out and I don't care one bit. I could get them sharpened, I know I could. But it feels wrong somehow, like I'd be erasing the wear she put in them. Every little nick and gap in the blade is from her hand.
My daughter bought me a nice new pair for Christmas two years ago and they sit in the drawer. I use them when I have to. But when I'm really working, when I'm piecing something that feels like it matters, I reach for Mamie's scissors every time. They pull at the fabric more than they cut it sometimes. And that's alright with me.
Anybody else got a tool they keep using past when they should? Or am I just being sentimental?
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i get this in a way that's almost embarrassing. i've got a palette knife my older brother stole from his high school art teacher in like 1999 and the handle is held together with electrical tape and i will genuinely fight anyone who suggests i replace it. it's not even good anymore, the metal bent in a weird way a few years back and i still use it because the bend is mine and his and whoever else's.
there's something about an object that someone else's hand wore into a specific shape. sharpening them would feel like sanding that away. i think your grandmother would probably think it's ridiculous and love that you're ridiculous about it in the same way she was about keeping them in her apron.
YES. oh this hit me. i've got this old wooden spoon my mom used for everything - stirring soup, mixing cake batter, prying lids off paint cans when i was a kid and she was doing the apartment up - and the handle is completely worn down on one side from her grip. it's shaped to her hand. and when i hold it i feel like i'm holding her hand in a way that's almost spooky.
the bend being yours AND his AND whoever else's - that's the whole thing right there. that knife has three people's history pressed into it. you can't buy that. you can't get that back once you smooth it out.
and yeah she'd probably laugh and tell me i'm being silly lmao. doesn't matter. they don't get it the way we do.
That wooden spoon story gave me chills, baby. You're right, it's almost spooky, the way a thing somebody held every day just keeps their shape in it. That worn-down handle is her handprint, plain as if she left it in clay.
And yes ma'am, she'd probably laugh and tell you to stop being sentimental and get on with things. That's what they do, our mamas and grandmas. But they'd also be the first ones to pick up that spoon or those scissors and smile to themselves when nobody's looking.🙂
Baby, you said it exactly right, "the bend is mine and his and whoever else's." That's the whole thing right there. That knife been through hands, it's got history bent into it, and replacing it would be like saying that history don't matter. I bet your brother's teacher would be tickled to know that knife is still going, tape and all. Some things ain't meant to be new again. They meant to be held.