BUTTON, BUTTON, WHO'S GOT THE BUTTOM

BUTTON, BUTTON, WHO’S GOT THE BUTTON

Characters:

 Jane:   Emma,  Jane’s younger sister:    Sandra: Emma’s daughter :   Thomas and David, Jane’s sons:

Carolyn, Thomas’ wife:    Jennifer, David’s wife

The button had been in the family for a hundred or more years,  proposed to be a button from the coat of Theodore Roosevelt, attested to by a reputable museum in the Midwest, confirmed by a Smithsonian anthropologist.  It was a cherished relic handed down from mother to daughter.  Until  Jane produced two sons and no daughter.  Jane’s sister, Emma proposed the button be given to her daughter, Sandra. Thereby keeping it in the maternal line.  Jane refused, leaving it to her oldest son, Thomas.

Years passed! Sandra, an avid antique researcher and would-be collector, discovered the value of the button.  She set out to get it. Always clever with her sewing projects she took up purse making. Purses from old denim jeans, upholstery remnants, discarded tote bags.  All of which needed buttons for closure.

Buttons she requested from Thomas’ wife, Carolyn.  Carolyn,  more interested in her watercolor than purse craft, readily produced a small collection of buttons.  Greedily examining the scanty collection Sandra said, “I’m looking for old or old looking buttons for my period purses . You have any idea what happened to Aunt Jane’s buttons?”

Carolyn shook her head. “I think we gave all those buttons—a cookie tin full—to David’s wife for some kind of crafts project in her after school day care.”

Mess, activity, exuberance of a dozen of children welcomed Sandra at Jennifer’s after school program. “Good lord,” Jennifer said, “I have no idea where the buttons are or when we used them. Maybe to make Thanksgiving table decorations.  Or valentines.  Who knows?   Can’t you just buy some buttons? That thrift store over near Walmart has them in a box, near the door.  You can scoop out a handful that cost you nearly nothing.”

“My problem is,” Sandra said, “I am making a purse for a woman who wishes to remain anonymous. She requested a special button which she said Aunt Jane used to have,”

Jennifer broke into  laughter . “That old button  she kept on a card. I know which one you mean.” Sandra felt relieved until Jennifer added, “It’s the one we gave to the theater group at the community college. They needed it to repair a turn of the century jacket for a play.”

“When?”

“Jennifer shrugged, “Two or three years ago, I think.” Sandra’s spirits sagged.

BUTTON, BUTTON, WHO’S GOT THE BUTTON?