Wyla Sherwood

The other day, right before the August 14th, I needed to hem the sleeves for my fancy new black dress I bought for Clayton's wedding. I don't know if dresses are made for orangutans or I really, really have short arms; but sleeves are often way too long on me.

I got out my sewing machine and a name flashed across my brain: Wyla Sherwood. Wyla taught me how to sew. I was in the sixth grade and very high strung. My teacher called in my mother to tell her that she thought I needed a hobby because, as she put it, "She sits in class and shakes like a leaf." Well, my sister was in reform school, my parents were fighting all the time, and I had no friends. I had lots to shake about. Nowadays, I would be sent to therapy. Then, I got a hobby.

Sewing. Just two days before I had wanted to see how the sewing machine worked; and Kathy, my older sister, said (quite snottily, I might add), "You can't use it until you have Home Edconomics." Interesting name for a class and I don't think they even teach anything close to it now where you learned about the 4 basic food groups and how to cut out an apron that you would never use. Well, when my mom mentioned a hobby, the memory popped into my mind and I said, "I would like to learn how to sew." If we'd had a piano that Kathy had kept me away from, who knows? Perhaps I would be a virtuoso today.

At any rate, my mom did what all of us did in the days before Google; she looked in the yellow pages. Sure enough, Wyla Sherwood taught sewing lessons. She had a room above an art gallery in the Holladay area. It was quite a drive for my parents and I'm really grateful for their sacrifice in paying for the lessons and supplies, as well as the time invested in helping me calm my nerves.

Well, I took to sewing like a duck to water. I loved the order of it all. I loved that you could take a pattern, follow instructions and come out with something useable; even fashionable. Back then lots of people sewed and there were fabric stores everywhere. But I don't think there was another Wyla. She had a group of 6-8women, most old enough to be my grandmother. I don't know how they felt about having a little 12 year old girl listen in on all their chit chat. Many of them were business women looking for a hobby or a way to find clothes that didn't come off the rack needing alterations, some just wanted a night out. I do remember being teased about my lead foot on the sewing pedal. They laughed that they wanted warning when I turned 16 so they could keep off the road. What can I say? I just loved moving down those seams as fast as I could, much as I still love moving down the highway.

I thought about Wyla as I easily made the alterations to my dress. Did she have any clue of the pleasure she would bring me throughout my life by passing on her skills? All those prom dresses, Halloween costumes, baby blessing clothes would never have come into existence without her giving me my start. Truly, it has been a talent that has brought happiness to me and my family. It was probably better than therapy. Even as I type this, an array of bridesmaid dresses made for others, prom dresses sewn as service projects for Church, pioneer hats sewn for a family outing march across my mind. I can still see the materials and feel the pins in my mouth. It was the one area of my life where I felt really creative....gathering materials, buttons, ribbon and seeing it in my mind's eye as a finished project even before the first cut of the fabric. It was the one area where I would allow myself to be a perfectionist. I was never afraid of unpicking if it meant that it would turn out perfect.

Some favorites: The dress I made for Sarah out of one of Nina's old prom dresses. My Spring formal dress with the orange flowers and the one with that was turquoise blue that always made me feel like a medieval princess. Clayton's outfit with the hand embroidered sail boat. Okay, too many favorites to name.

I don't get to sew very often now. Perhaps that time will come again. Perhaps that time is forever past.

But I will forever be grateful to Wyla. I googled her the other day. There was a copy of her obituary from a few years back and it appeared that she lived a very full, very happy life. I wonder if, wherever she is, she knows what a wonderful gift she gave to a nervous 12 year old little girl.

Thank you, Wyla. I hope there are Berninas in Heaven! :)