Memories of my precious grandmother are why I treadle.
In 1954 my grandmother taught me to treadle in her little adobe house in El Paso, Texas. She had a Singer treadle sewing machine with a long bobbin and mysterious Egyptian decals. With scraps I made a shoe box full of doll clothes for my chubby baby doll. Those were the pre-Barbie doll days, before the wasp waistline, long legs and cleavage.
Years later she owned two old sewing machines and we treadled together. A few years after she died I bought my first treadle, in 1973, because it brought back warm memories.
From 1990 to 1993 my treadle was in storage when I lived in Holland. By the end of the 3 years I yearned to treadle again. When my feet finally hit the treadle all the memories of treadling with my grandmother came flooding back. It was then I decided I never needed to use an electric machine again.
