I received this poem from Dee. Sums up what we do.
I am the family wardrobe, best and worst
Of all generations, from the first;
Grandpa’ Sunday go-to- meetin’ coat,
And a woollen muffler he wore at his throat;
Grandma’s shaw, that came from Fayal;
Ma’s wedding gown, three times turned and once let down,
Which once was plum and now turned brown;
Pa’s red flannels, that made him itch;
Pants and shirts; petticoats and skirts;
From one another, but I can’t tell which.
Tread carefully, because you see, if you scuff me,
You scratch the bark of the family tree.
Rag Rugs of England and America
Thank you, Dee.