THE ABOMINABLE SNOWSUIT

My mother was a genius at making ends meet.  She could make something out of nothing.  During those lean years of the depression she kept her girls clothed without spending much money at all.  She made us dresses from flowered flour sacks, with bloomers to match. I hated them of course and to this day I don't wear garments made from flowered   fabric.  Flowered garments remind me too much of the "flour sack" dresses that I should have appreciated, but regrettably did not. I longed for something made of crisp, checked gingham or striped chambray.  When our feet grew fast and our shoes became too short, mother cut the upper leather toes out of the shoes so that we could wear them another few months, or perhaps even a year longer.

The winters in Wichita, Kansas were bitterly cold.  We had to walk about eight blocks to school each day, and needed warm outer clothing.  Faced with the challenge of providing that warm outer clothing for us, Mother devised a brilliant plan.  She went to the Salvation Army Thrift Store and bought three men's discarded overcoats for pennies.    They were all 100% wool, wonderful warm fabric.  They were all dark ugly colors, shades of brown and gray. A far cry from the bright hot pink, blue, purple and yellow colors of children's outerwear today. She brought them home and spent many tedious hours carefully ripping them apart, piece by piece, until she had several large pieces of the warmest woolen fabric from each of the overcoats.  Then she proceeded to make a snow suit from the fabric of each of the  overcoats, one for each of her daughters. The one she made for me was a very dark menswear gray.  It was thick and heavy; it weighed a ton.  She made the jacket with the inside of the fabric facing out.  The inside of the fabric had a tiny dark red pin stripe on it, which she told me, made it pretty.  The snow suit pants were made with the outside out, and were such dark gray they were almost black.  Mother always made our garments over-sized, so that we could "grow into them" and  wear them for a long time.  Usually our garments were worn out before we grew enough to fit appropriately into them.  Well, I hated that snowsuit.  It was so big and so heavy that once I had it on, I could barely move.  It also had a matching hat, made with the inside out, meaning it had that little "pretty" pinstripe in it.  The hat, horrifying to me, was made from a pattern of an aviator's hat, and snapped under my chin.   The sleeves of the jacket were a raglan type sleeve, and because Mother had allowed for growth, the underarm seams of the jacket bulged out like two tents from beneath my arms.
Altogether, I thought the snowsuit and hat were abominable.  I thought I would rather freeze to death than wear it.  But, of course, I had no choice.  I wore it, though not without some resistance. Looking back now, I know I should have been grateful for the warm outfit my Mother had made for me, but I was not.  I hated wearing it, and thought I was a laughing stock when I did.  If the truth be known,the snowsuit was very likely unnoticed by the other kids. But it did nothing to enhance my self-image.  I felt awkward and ugly when I wore it.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the snowsuit met its demise one wet, cold morning in the middle of the winter.  It had become quite wet from my making Angels in the snow on the way to school.  I was in the second grade, and attending classes in another annex.  Annex II, it was called.   Annex II was heated by a pot-bellied wood stove, which stood in the middle of the classroom.  As I bolted into the room I saw many of my fellow students huddled beside to stove to get warm and dry out.  I joined them.  I backed up to the stove, and stood close, in order to get my snowsuit dry.  I don't remember how long I stood there, but was brought sharply to attention when Miss Cobean, my teacher, called to us and said "I smell something burning! Someone is too close to the stove."  Yes, of course it was me.  My snowsuit was on fire.  The acrid smell of burning wool filled the room.  Miss Cobean rushed to me and pulled the burning snowsuit off of me.  It was too late to save the snowsuit.  A huge hole smoldered on the back of the jacket, and went all the way through to the snowpants.  The abominable snowsuit's days were over.  Miss Cobean told me how sorry she was, and even went to the main building and called my mother to tell her about the tragic accident and express her apology to her.  But I wasn't sorry.  Secretly I was glad that the awful suit was so damaged that it could no longer be worn.  Memory fails me when I try to recall what I wore for the rest of the winter.  My mother was resourceful, so I'm sure she thought of something.  I do know that I did not have another abominable snowsuit made from a man's discarded  woolen overcoat.  That I would remember.