Stitching to the Rhythm of the Treadle

When I was 12 years old, my sister and I lived with my mother’s brother and his wife at their home in Kansas City, Mo. My uncle’s mother, my grandmother, lived in the same house. She had brought only a few items with her when she moved to her son’s home. Her sewing machine, a gift from her children, was one of those items.

The machine rested on a