Where It Has Been
Maybe I should spruce-up my old sewing machine,
the use and abuse over the years can be seen,
There are ways to restore a much better shine,
perhaps I should do it with this one of mine.
Its date is from the year of nineteen fourteen,
as of twenty fourteen, it’s now an antique machine.
The decals are silvered, the finish worn on the bed,
it’s poor old red eyes have lost most of their red.
The paint that’s remaining doesn’t appear to be loose,
the paint that is missing appears worn off from use.
Many scratches, dings, and the rash on the arm,
it has been through heck to have all this harm.
I’d like to know more about this sewing machine,
its use and its history, if you know what I mean.
And I really do wonder what the story would be,
if this old machine was able to tell it to me.
But since it can’t talk, I’ll just have to guess,
did it sew toddler’s clothing or a woman’s new dress?
It came out as a treadle, its age would suggest,
but I’ll never know, the machine cannot attest.
It was made in New Jersey, but then on to where?
Was it shipped coast to coast, or was it picked up right there?
Has it ridden in a wagon, or maybe on a train?
Were its travels protected, from the dust and the rain?
When I found it in 0-seven, in my midwestern state,
its treadle was missing, I was a little too late.
No motor or upgrades appear ever applied,
so it seems it has never been “electrified”.
Had it been cast aside before power lines came?
Or was the Owner short funds for that kind of thing?
If funds were no problem, did they just like to treadle?
If that’s what they liked, perhaps no need to meddle.
I fitted a handcrank and an ugly old case,
and with sewing machine oil, I wiped off its face.
With very little effort, it was brought back to sew,
how long it had been idle, I’ll just never know.
So now in Oklahoma, it once again sews,
each time that I use it, it just takes off and goes.
What travels had brought it to my fair state?
Has it lived here for long, or arrived as of late?
By the time that I found it, nothing left but the head.
in a stack of machines in an old storage shed,
Heads stacked in a bin, about 4 machines deep,
this old machine was near the bottom of the heap.
Dusty, forgotten, and looking forlorn,
no wonder its finish is looking so worn.
But each of its flaws could tell an event,
of who it lived with, and where with them went.
To mess with its finish, I know very well,
erases the history, the machine is trying to tell.
The bad things that happened, need not to be known,
the abuse, the neglect, the time spent all alone.
But I’ll imagine the good times that it has been in,
and wonder as to where and with whom it has been.
Whoever has had it, probably more than just one,
has certainly used this old son-of-a-gun!
So I think that I’ll keep it, just as it appears,
and wonder how it made it through all of its years.
CD in Oklahoma