My oldest brother complained countless times about how his shirts did not have enough buttons.
Did you ever count how many buttons are on a man’s shirt? Well, I did and there were seven buttons and button holes down the front to cover any size chest when one or two would do the same. Then take the cuffs in which most have two or four; sometimes more. You run your hand around the collar. Oops, there are two more tiny ones. They are so tiny that they are rarely used with the exception of the laundry lady.
Well, one day I got a little tired of the complaints so I thought I might be nice. So, with needle and thread in hand and a big button box close by I started. About that time brother passed by me with this giant smile on his face that could melt you. I noticed he did this a lot and for some reason you always felt so good doing his chores, etc. We had a sister who could do anything and a couple brothers that he charmed too. I gave birth to one like him. That gene just passed me by. But getting back to my sewing after I received this smile he sorta sweetened the kitty with “I’ll cook supper tonight.” “Great!!!” I said. So, I continued sewing buttons on his shirts but under my breath I said I detest sewing. Happy day I got finished and pressed his shirt and around eleven buttons.
He gets cleaned up and I’m proud to have a happy good-looking brother all spruced up to go to town.
Later when he returned home, there was no smile and I asked if there was a problem. “Oh, I got one,” he said, “Everyone around the Danville Square asked me if I was selling buttons.” No commission this time. He said, “Sis would you please look and find the same size and color for each shirt?” Why? Years later that has become the style. He was setting a style and didn’t know it. When I see someone dressed this way now, his smile is warming my heart. Anyway he was asking for a tall order. “Do you realize how many suppers you will be cooking? And let’s don’t forget the dishes this time,” I smiled back. I continued to look in the button box for matched buttons to no avail. I said to him, “I bet you lost those buttons on a date sometime.”
“How about me riding along on your next date?” “No way,” he would say. “But I’ll just ride along in the back seat and keep my mouth shut and my eyes open. But, you would have to promise if I needed to stop at a gas station for a comfort stop that you would be careful not to leave until I was back in the car.” “No promise and you can’t go!” he would say. “Not even if I gave you my week’s allowance – all 10 cents of it and just maybe I could include milking one of your cows – just one though?” I thought he might fall for that one, because he liked milking cows as good as I liked sewing. Needless to say, I didn’t get my date ride. But you know a few years later and it’s hard to say how many buttons passed through my needle or how many cows I milked that was in his stalls, etc. He did ask me to double date once. We went roller skating at Rollerland in Indianapolis. It was great for a farm gal just to see all the city lights. We then ate at the Pole restaurant by the fairgrounds. I did not pick up any buttons, but did pick up a lot of pointers.
Ma Ma June
(Editor’s note: My Uncle Harold was quite the charmer. When he walked in a room and smiled, the whole room lit up and all of his brothers and sisters would do whatever he wanted them to do. My ‘baby brother’ David looks like Uncle Harold and he has Uncle Harold’s personality. He can always make you laugh or smile. In fact, Mother said, “There isn’t a day that goes by that David did not make you smile or laugh. Ma Ma June’s loving daughter