She made handbags

Yesterday my mom, grandfather and I spent some time going through my grans clothes, sorting out what will go to Hospice to be sold and what will go to other people, like all her bowls clothes will be given to underprivileged players.

While we were going through her hand bags my mom mentioned that granny used to make them.  I never knew that about her.


It makes me wonder what else there was about her that as her granddaughter I didn’t know.  It makes me realise that as her granddaughter I only knew her as my grandmother, not as a wife, a mother, a friend.  The same goes for my mom, my dad, my grandfather, my uncles.  How many different facets we all have.

I hope to learn more about my grandmother as a women, a mother, a friend, a wife…

8 Replies to “She made handbags”

  1. Reminds me of this poem, we often forget to see the person behind

    When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was wrongly assumed that she had nothing left of any value.
    But later, when the nurses were going through her meagre possessions, they found this poem.
    Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

    What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
    What are you thinking when you’re looking at me?
    A crabby old woman, not very wise,
    Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes?
    Who dribbles her food and makes no reply
    When you say in a loud voice, “I do wish you’d try!”
    Who seems not to notice the things that you do, and
    Forever is losing a stocking or shoe…..
    Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will,
    With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill….
    Is that what you’re thinking?
    Is that what you see?
    Then open your eyes, nurse; you’re not looking at me.
    I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,
    As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
    I’m a small child of ten ….with a father and mother,
    Brothers and sisters, who love one another.
    A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet,
    Dreaming that soon now a lover she’ll meet.
    A bride soon at twenty — my heart gives a leap,
    Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
    At twenty-five now, I have young of my own,
    Who need me to guide and a secure happy home.
    A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast,
    Bound to each other with ties that should last.
    At forty, my young sons have grown and are gone,
    But my man’s beside me to see I don’t mourn.
    At fifty once more, babies play round my knee,
    Again we know children, my loved one and me.
    Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead;
    I look at the future, I shudder with dread.
    For my young are all rearing young of their own,
    And I think of the years and the love that I’ve known.
    I’m now an old woman …and nature is cruel;
    ‘Tis jest to make old age look like a fool.
    The body, it crumbles, grace and vigour depart,
    There is now a stone where I once had a heart.
    But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,
    And now and again, my battered heart swells.
    I remember the joys, I remember the pain,
    And I’m loving and living life over again.
    I think of the years ….all too few, gone too fast,
    And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
    So open your eyes, people, open and see,
    Not a crabby old woman; look closer …see ME!!

    Remember this poem when you next meet an old person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within.
    We will one day be there, too.

  2. wow, that handbag is AMAZING. you must have had quite a significant addition to your accessories collection.

    something to really be treasured and remind you of a special, stunning woman.

    1. unfortunately this is the only one she had that she made (I did take a few others that she had, also very retro and fabulous)… but it is gorgeous, I cant wait to take it out with me 🙂

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