That was Mommy's sewing machine. I get the impression that most homes owned one at some point in time, like antenna'd TVs.

Before I came around and a bit after that, Mommy used to sew for a living (among I don't know what else), so sewing machine was to her what a computer is to me.

This one was feet powered, unlike the electrical ones which cost several times more. I vaguely remember the shopping trip that resulted in this. I think there were also numerous repair episodes involving moving belts. Wear and tear comes in different flavors in the non-electronic age.

I'm not sure what exactly she sewed for business but I do remember her being busy doing so.

This sewing machine has a foldable side panel. Before they bought me a proper school table, this side panel was where I did my dreadful never-ending school work. For that, this sewing machine had the misfortune of being associated with my memories of hopelessness.

Mommy would asked for my help to thread needles because her eyesight wasn't as good anymore. I would struggle doing so even as a kid.

At some point her far-sightedness got bad enough that she just couldn't sew anymore, and pivoted to babysitting.

Interestingly there was a short stint long after she's stopped sewing where she took on some contract work. This I remember vividly. A boy from few streets away would carry two bags of yellow shoulders pads to our house for Mommy to work on.

I'm not sure if it was but the work felt brutal. Sounds of the punching needle was running, shoulder pads littered the floor. When it's done, the same boy would pick up it again back to his mom (I presume). This went on for weeks, perhaps months.

Or it might not have been so bad but Mommy was not an introvert, she wasn't cut out for a desk job (even one with spinning wheel).

See, people used hunt their own food; and then farming happened. We call that progress. People also used to make their own clothes; it's like the primitive version of rolling your own servers. Anyone found doing that today would be deemed artisanal.

But during Mommy's time it was simply economical. Textiles were sold retail; shopping trips to buy cloths were a thing among women.

Clothes now are made in Bangladesh. Some people also call that progress. These progress create so much abundance that self-stitching simply doesn't make sense.

The same modern capitalist system also create dependencies you don't have the skill to opt out of. The sewing machine, like a personal server, was a symbol of independence. It says that even when the world goes to shit, you don't have to depend on the supply chain working, you can always make your own clothes.

Even if that's not strictly true (the fabric still has to come from somewhere), the ideals of sovereignty and independence is simply too much hard work to be appealing for the mainstream. The Thomas Friedman flat world would in fact argue that dependencies create conditions for mutually assured destruction that world peace is inevitable.

This sewing machine hasn't been operational for a long time. After Mommy was gone, it was too bulky for me to keep. Surprisingly there were people willing to pick it up so I gave it away. Hopefully it has found a worthy user somewhere else.