Tell Me A Story: HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY: THE RED WOOL SUIT

Saturday, May 10, 2014

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY: THE RED WOOL SUIT

Marcia Norwood
America's STORYTELLER
Telling Untold Stories in Photographs, Prose and Public Speaking

http://tellmeastory-marcia.blogspot.com/

My grandson, Joshua,

asked me to tell him a story

that taught me a life lesson.

It was an assignment

from his high school English teacher.

I told Joshua about my red wool suit.

My Red Wool Suit

Mom made a double-breasted, red wool suit (skirt and jacket) for me to wear to my Homecoming Dance in 1967. I was 17, and a senior at Liberty High School, in Liberty, Missouri. Mom hated to shop, but she went with me, and let me pick out the fabric. We found the perfect red wool fabric at the Jones’ Store in Independence. I loved it…at first.

Mom was an excellent seamstress, and the red wool suit was beautifully tailored. All my friends at LHS talked about what they were wearing to Homecoming. I was a bit embarrassed that my mom was sewing my homemade outfit. Most of my friends had plenty of money, and shopped on the Country Club Plaza, or downtown Kansas City. My friends bragged that they would be wearing the hottest color that year: maroon….a deep burgundy. I never had a maroon/burgundy outfit, and I wanted one.

I pouted: “Mom, all the girls are wearing burgundy outfits to Homecoming – except for me. It’s not fair.”

MOM: “I made you a beautiful red wool suit. I’m not going shopping again.”

I kept up the “poor me” barrage until Mom relented. She gave me cash, and asked our neighbor, Fran, to take me shopping in Kansas City. Fran helped me pick out a gorgeous maroon/burgundy dress. It was double-breasted with a unique, diagonal criss-cross in the back.

I walked into the '67 Homecoming dance, and felt on top of the world in my trendy burgundy wool, tea-length dress. All was wonderful until I spotted my friend, Irene, walking toward me wearing the exact same burgundy wool, tea-length dress. She was as appalled as I was.

Later that evening at home, I threw myself on the bed, and cried.

“I wish I’d worn the red wool suit that you made for me,” I said to Mom.

“You looked beautiful tonight, Marcia. You’ll be able to wear the red wool suit another time.”

I did. I wore the red wool suit to my first “real” job interview. I got the job, and later my boss told me one of the reasons he hired me as a bond underwriter was my professional appearance. He specifically mentioned the red wool suit.

The day before Mom went to Heaven, in 2003, we said things to each other for the last time on this side of eternity.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings about the red wool suit you made for me in high school,” I said. “I loved that suit, and I’ve worn it so many times. I was embarrassed back-in-the-day (36 years earlier) that you sewed it for me, but now that I’m older, and a mother myself, I realize what a precious gift you gave to me.”

Mom cried.

“I never told you...” she said. “I never told you that I saved money from the jar I kept my grocery money in to buy the red wool fabric. You complained there was no Coke or potato chips that week, but it was because I saved the money for your red wool suit. When you changed your mind, and wanted a burgundy dress, I took money out of the grocery jar again. Your dad and I went without meat for a month to pay for the $35 dress from Harzfelds.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

I cried.

“I didn’t want you to think we were poor. We were rich in so many other ways.”