Grandma had a button jar' sitting on her dresser. Every button she could find went in that jar. Any garment that was discarded she cut all the buttons of first and added to her jar. Some of the buttons were very old. There were glass buttons, wooden buttons, pearl buttons, shiny buttons, many color buttons, and just plain white shirt buttons. They made a beautiful display on her dresser and they were important to Grandma. Sometimes she would spruce up one of our garments with a change of buttons and some new ribbon or something. Almost like having a new garment. To Grandma these buttons were as good as money sometimes. Seeing that we had no money that makes sense. She took scraps and parts of dresses or shirts and whipped up some really pretty dresses for me. I always got to pick my buttons and boy was that a great production for me. So much fun!! When I picked out one then we had to pour the buttons out on a towel and see if we could find matching ones to have enough. If not I picked again and etc. till I had my buttons. I loved 'pickin out buttons' because I got to run my hands all through the usually smooth buttons.
I was not supposed to open the jar without Grandma there to help me but it was sooo pretty sitting there that I couldn't resist picking it up and shaking it or turning it upside down and rolling it like a kaleidoscope. Well of course one day I went too far with my rolling the jar around. The lid flew off,- at least that was what I wanted everyone to believe. Actually I had been taking the lid off and it was loose so of course it flew off! Oh My Gosh, buttons flew everywhere, under, over, around and everything in between. Now what to do. I knew I was in trouble if I didn't get those darn buttons all picked up and I thought I had till Grandma got up in her room that night and stepped on one of them. She didn't say a word till the next morning and she showed me her foot with a red spot on it. I fessed up. I got a scolding but that was all. I found out later that Grandma thought she had probably dropped the button herself. She was so proud of me for telling her the truth that she didn't have the desire to punish me more severely. I was learning I guess because there had been incidents in the past where I held my confession just as long as I could and got in to lots of trouble.
I was taught to always tell the truth, but I wouldn't have had to that time. I'm glad I did though. Even at that young age telling the truth no matter the consequences made me feel good.
Tags: Buttons Jar Pretty Spill Truth
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