Today I had another oddly disquieting inter-generational failure to communicate. It reminded me of the time I tried to explain Sears catalogue to my hairdresser.
The strata council (a.k.a. home owners’ association board) that manages all things structural and mechanical in my building had arranged for all the fire alarms to be tested today. I knew that inspectors were coming and was ready for someone to come into my unit and test my smoke and fire alarms.
The technician, who was tall enough to check the alarms in my ceiling without standing on a chair or a ladder, dutifully checked everything and declared all to be hunky dory. He explained that I should expect to hear the fire alarms tested later in the day but that I should not be alarmed; it would just be a test of the alarms. So, not at all alarming.
Before he left my apartment, though, he pointed out a shadow box that I have on my wall and asked me about the object that I had placed within it. He wanted to know what it was. The conversation went something like this:
He: What is that?
Me: It is a darning toadstool.
He: What is it for?
Me: Darning socks. My mother used to darn my father’s socks.
He: Ironing? She ironed socks?
Me: No, darning. Mending.
(At this point he looked completely baffled so I felt the need to explain using hand gestures.)
Me: She repaired holes in socks by sewing. (My fingers showing the darning process, weaving a needle and yarn in and out.)
He: OK. (But clearly not.) I have never heard of that before.
This brought back memories of my childhood when my mother would knit socks for my dad using three double-ended needles in a circular fashion. He wore those socks every day, and when a heel wore a hole in a sock, my mum would darn it. The darning toadstool is one of the few things I have of my mother’s and it brings up warm memories.
As you can see from the photos, it is a well-used toadstool. The picture in the back of the shadow box was taken at my parents’ wedding in 1932 and the medal was won by my father for wrestling (Olympic style) at the Pembroke Athletic Club.
Both those items were significant in my parents’ eyes, but the humble toadstool has the most significance in mine.
Snowbird of Paradise 
Many years ago I was shopping for a scientific calculator for my son. When I commented that log tables and a slide rule were just as good, he looked at me .like I was from a other planet.
Haha! Well, maybe we are!
@snowbirdofparadise.com Do you know if it was common for everyone to repair their socks (or pay someone to repair them) at that time, or only people who couldn't afford new ones? If everyone did it, it would have been better for the environment I expect! It makes me feel a little guilty that I throw away my socks when they have holes, but the idea of repairing them seems like a pain!
I just realized that the phrase "It's not worth a darn" might mean something is so low in value it's not worth fixing (and so "It's not worth a damn" might have come later, rather than earlier). Neat! (I tried looking it up but didn't find anything.)
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I think that it was common for working class people to darn their socks, but probably not for the upper classes. I have never done it, so it was probably just the post-war generation.
Now I’m wondering about the phrase “It’s not worth a darn,” too. I’ll let you know if I discover anything.
I found this:
https://digitalcommons.unl.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1244&context=englishfacpubs
It is long, though.
And technical! I might have to read it a second time to absorb all of the content. I didn’t know “darnation” was a word used. I had just heard of “tarnation”.
There seems to be some slippage between darn, darnation, damn, damnation, and tarnation. We need a specialist in word derivations.
Yes!!
@snowbirdofparadise.com
What a ~~lovely~~ story! 💕
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I’m so glad you enjoyed it, redbanjer.
@snowbirdofparadise.com
Heh. I'm reading this as I darn socks. I have an antique plastic 2 tone egg. My mother had a wood egg painted black. Hard to find darker threads.
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That is wonderful! Thanks for letting me know. I have never seen a darning egg but I will see if I can find an image online.
Is your darning egg like this one?:
http://tinyurl.com/ynh75kz4
And your mother’s egg like this one?:
http://tinyurl.com/3ys9csc8
@snowbirdofparadise.com Nice! I'm glad you decreased the collective ignorance of darning that bit more.
I still knit and darn socks, but I use an egg rather than a mushroom.
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It’s good to hear that you knit and darn socks. You must be one of a very select few these days, but I’m sure your socks are nice and cosy.
Imagine her hands using it so often in proper industry
It was a regular household chore that she often did in the evenings.
My mother darned purchased socks. Although she knitted and crocheted, she didn’t knit socks. But, my memory (which I’ll have to check with my siblings) is that she used a light bulb as her darning egg. That sounds so tricky, it seems hard to believe. I too have a touch of guilt when I toss socks. But not enough to darn them!
Her lightbulbs must have been a lot sturdier than mine! What a great workaround, though. I am impressed.
Back in the day, socks were made of wools and cottons that were a lot easier to darn than the fibres used today. I think we can set aside any non-darning guilt and lay it at the feet of the clothing manufacturers.
That’s a great point! I was realizing I couldn’t darn my socks with the thick darning thread my mom used; it would feel like a lump in my shoe! But I have toyed with the idea of learning to knit socks. Maybe in 2024…
Only if you or a loved one wants some thick socks. 🙂
Well, that’s a great point to consider.😊
Our old neighbor knitted Lee and me each a pair of socks and we LOVED them. Lee wore his out and then he sewed leather bottoms to them. Lee would have liked for me to darn his socks but I was having none of that. I told him…it’s a lot of work to make your sock uncomfortable, (I assumed I’d be bad at it as well). It’s a joy to read this story about Gran darning and knitting socks.
I’m glad you enjoyed the story, Sally.
When I wore darned socks as a child, the darning often rubbed my heel and sometimes caused a blister, so it depends on how tough your skin is!
What an interesting post, and such a range of responses. My mother and grandmother used a light bulb to darn socks as well. It does seem kind of an unlikely and possibly dangerous workaround. But I remember that distinctly, and I thought of it as soon as I read your post. Thanks, Anne, for firing up that filament of memory.
Ha! I love the pun! I agree that darning around a lightbulb sounds fraught with danger.