When we were married, Jack used to make leather goods, that included purses and sandals. He started to sell them when the Rose Festival Center was in the park across from the Lloyd Center Mall. It was probably 50 years ago.
What I have left of these is this purse he made for Mom and the tiny, little sandals he made for Hannah.
I clearly can recall the smell of leather, dye, Lexol and rubber cement. His workshop was set up in our small front room and a stump was installed where he cut and hammered and finished his handmade goods.
Scraps of leather and tools were scattered all about. His fingers and the floor were stained with shades of warm browns, soft reds and black and deepest blues.
I was the blessed recipient of purses, belts and sandals and small wallets of latigo and soft suede of many colors.
I miss that workshop that was our tiny house. I miss the sounds and the smells and Jack’s ability to create works of art from leather.
And this is what life is made of, memories and scraps of leather.
eyeamdust 