Thanks Ben Huberman for the prompt — write about hand me downs, which I prefer to call hand me ups (sounds more positive than the latter.)
Growing up with three brothers and no older sister, I did not wear hand me downs. I would have liked to wear my brothers’ jeans, but my mother deemed them unladylike and so that never happened.
But I did see value in things that other people cast aside. My life is populated by hoards of things rescued and recycled (no, I am not a hoarder, unless you count my stash of fabric and other odd craft items,) but I do reclaim, recycle and put to use: old furniture restored and loved; tablecloths mended (all that’s requite is a centerpiece to cover the repair,) and waiting for a dinner party; old denims salvaged and made into quilts; and speaking of quilts, the one made of old men’s ties was the best of all recycling projects.
My treasures are found at yard sales and thrift stores. I laughed with my daughter the other day when we talked about ‘Good Will Hunting’ (not the movie, but Goodwill hunting). Maybe I’ll find ties there for another quilt.