mama dear repurposed gramps’ old wooden cigar boxes. she’d label them with a magic marker with a big Z or a big B on the front – which stood for zippers and buttons.

i have these old cigar boxes. The Z box now stores nespresso pods in our sunroom. the B box stores harmonicas, kazoos, egg shakers in my studio. the unlabeled corona cigar box is in the office and is loaded with business cards from days when my recording label was flourishing.

the zippers from the Z box are in with my sewing supplies.

and the buttons from the B box? there is a giant collection of buttons. tiny buttons, metal buttons, plastic buttons, wooden buttons, buttons with distinction, whimsical buttons, spare buttons in those tiny plastic bags along with a bit of matching colored thread – that used to come with every blazer, every shirt, every coat.

it is a direct connect to pass by these button-flowers – these fading daisies in the meadow – and think of mama dear, my grandmother, my sweet momma’s mom. she is the person who taught me how to sew and i simply cannot so much as thread a needle without thinking of her.

i found a letter from mama dear the other day. it was from early 1980. i was 20. in it she thanked me for a christmas gift i had given her and a card i had sent from a trip to visit my parents. no one knew at the time it would be her last holiday season. born in 1899, she was a feisty almost-81 with bright red hair and a penchant for gambling slot machines in vegas. in her letter she wrote, “i hope you are happy with your choice” referring to my staying in new york instead of going to florida with my parents as they retired.

at the time it wasn’t really a difficult choice. i was at the beginning stages of a composing/recording/performing career and retirement-central wasn’t the place to grow. so, yes, i was happy with my choice. until one day when that choice became dangerous and i fled all semblance of my budding career, leaving any feisty i had inherited from mama dear behind, devastatingly leaving all artistry buds behind for decades to come.

the button-flowers are charming. they punctuate the masses of goldenrod lighting up the meadows. and they make me think of my button collection.

i have no idea what i will do with all of those buttons. i suppose one day i will list them on marketplace and give them away to a seamstress or crafter who will make creative use of them. maybe i will tell them a little about mama dear, about how many of these buttons are vintage, about how they carry a spirit of feisty red-headed grandma in them.

or maybe i’ll just quietly gift them the collection and hold onto the feisty myself.

and every time i pass a button-daisy on the side of a trail i’ll check in – inside – and make sure it’s still there – the feisty – still growing, still challenging me, still repurposing into profound and important choices for the L box. Life.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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