My mother, like many mothers long before her time, insisted I learn to sew. But unlike those old-fashioned ancestors, it had nothing to do with preparing wedding linens to catch me a man. Her reason was much more life and death. I was not allowed anywhere near the driver's seat of a vehicle until I could sew.
It's actually brilliant. I will probably do the same with my kids. My mom's thoughts were that a sewing machine would teach me how to use a foot pedal. I think her words were something along the lines of, "I would rather you crash a sewing project than crash a car." And so I learned to sew. Not well, but enough to eventually be taken out for a driving lesson. I don't even remember what that first sewing project was. It's possible I did nothing but running stitches all over a scrap of cloth. But the lesson apparently sunk in, enough that I had the basics down when I again sat at a machine more than a decade later.
And as for the driving? Well, my husband says I have a tendency to drift to the right. I will have to look into if my sewing does the same.
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