My mother passed away when she was 95. Mom always had a purse and it always had to match what she was wearing, especially when she went to church. Oh yes, church, we went to church every Sunday morning. In fact my whole family always went to church every Sunday down through the ages. I have “keep-sakes” from Sunday School attendance records from years ago reflecting my grandmother's, their mother's and my grandmother's grandmother’s names from from both sides of the family. I am sure they all carried their “pocket books” at their side in one fashion or another.

My mom was very protective of her purse. I am not sure why, but I never remember her just letting me go through it, so to speak. I find myself being the same way with my grand children at times. I have nothing to hide. I just have a sense of privacy I guess, except for the area in my purse where I keep gum. They all know where that is.

My mom had me when she was almost 40 years old. I was the last of her 5 girls, the baby. Next in line was Bonnie who was 7 years older. Mom belonged to a group of women at our church who coined the name “Dilly Dallies.” My, I do remember those women. All of them very stylish in their own way and of course, all of them carried purses to match their outfits for the day. It was customary to place your sweater/coat in the master bedroom on the bed, along with your purse. I used to love to lay on the bed while they were all talking (gossiping) and look at and touch each purse. Some were quite plain like the women who owned them, but some were jeweled or of tapestry and were quite elegant, again like their owners. I used to pretend I was whoever the purse represented in my imaginary mind.

My mom always made sure I sat very "proper" in church, legs down, hands folded and “still.” That was very hard for me. I remember one girl my age named Elizabeth who never moved. I used to sit and watch her and wonder how she could be so still. I so wanted to just say “boo” to see if she was sleeping. When I just couldn’t stand it anymore and began to not sit still my mom would take her purse, open it and pull out this beautiful, perfectly folded, very clean, never used, white hanker-chief with tatting on the edges. She then closed her purse and placed it back on the floor beside her feet, where she placed it during church.

I always watched with gleeful anticipation as she took the hanky and with her hands begin to make “2 babies swinging in a hammock.” She would very slowly and carefully fold the handkerchief diagonally to make a triangle shape. After that she would roll both long edges to the middle. Then separating the fold she would peel back one corner and there they would be - “2 babies swinging in a hammock!” My mother would then carefully hand it to me. The babies would swing back and forth endlessly, until I got tired. Then mom would take the hanky, shake it out and the babies and the hammock would be gone. Folding it neatly, she would place the handkerchief back in her purse. Hardly a Sunday in church goes by that I don’t think about “2 babies swinging in a hammock.”

Her hands are what I remember the most!