With spring just around the corner, it reminded me of another spring -eons ago when I was a little girl.

As a rule, little girls didn’t wear trousers back then.

I often inherited a dress from a cousin that she had outgrown.    So a new dress was a luxury.

When we had the wherewithal, my mother bought flour in a 50-lb cloth sack for her Saturday baking of bread, cinnamon rolls, and donuts.

The flour mill, on their anniversary, once imprinted the sack with yellow flowers and the name of the mill was not prominent.

Poverty is like a communicable disease – not to be mentioned until one is over it.

Do you remember the “sack” dresses that were in vogue years ago?  Not being boastful, but we were ahead of this fashion trend when we wore one as little girls.  I remember the dress with great fondness.

This is not a pity party or a plea for sympathy, as many people were no better off during the Depression (think Dust Bowl).  I’ve heard from people my age who also wore these “sack” dresses.

The flour sack had just enough material to make a dress for a little girl as small as I was.  I was so happy and gave no thought from whence the material had come.

I could hardly wait for the last stitch to be sewn so I could wear a brand new dress for a change and show it off to my friends.

“Pride goeth before a fall” is so true and I was not prepared for

the jeers and taunts I faced when some of my playmates knew the source of the material.

In the comic strip, Cathy, she once said, “Embarrassment is forever.”  I say “Cruelty is too.”  We bear the scars from our childhood throughout our lives.

My mother tried to console me, saying they were just jealous because they did not have a pretty dress like mine.

With tongue in cheek, I guess you could call me one of the original “flour” (flower) children, prevalent in the ‘60’s and 70’s — ahead of the times.

I still had to wear the “sack” dress.  Teasing died down, but I did not wear it with the joy I felt when my mother slipped it over my head that first time.