I was the 13th of 16 children and gifts were few and far between. I remember an orange. I remember a pair of striped gloves on my sixth birthday, memorable because the stripes reached at least halfway to my elbow.

My most memorable gift, however, was a Christmas gift from an older sister when I was 10 years old. It was an embroidery set complete with stamped design, hoop, needles and an assortment of colorful embroidery floss.

Each year at this time I’m reminded of this rare gift, rare for me for different reasons. My mother mended socks, replaced buttons, and patched our clothes, but it was my father — a serious man whose wrath was well known — who taught me how to use the embroidery set.

To this day I don’t remember what happened to the finished product, but I well remember the impact of that simple gift. It not only gave me a new insight of my father, it also gave birth to my love of sewing.

When the embroidery sample was done I began salvaging my older brothers’ shirts, cutting the backs out and hand stitching aprons from them. My brothers soon learned to hang up their shirts lest they find the back had been cut away. As I entered my teens, I gave up making aprons and used my skills to adjust hand-me-downs from my older sisters.

I married young and soon started a family. Before the first of my seven children was born, my mother gave me her Singer treadle sewing machine and I was determined that I would dress this child in new clothing.

My first mission was to find a simple pattern that would guarantee me success. I chose an over-the-head nightie pattern with drawstrings at the neck, hands and feet to keep my baby warm. Armed with the pattern, I went shopping at Peck’s, Reid & Hughes, Grant’s and Beaconway Fabric Center in search of the softest flannel to clothe my coming baby in the prettiest nighties. I covered my bases by selecting a print with baby toys that would be suitable for boy or girl.

By the time my baby was born I had six cozy, warm nighties for her. These were handed down to the next six children.

I did not stop with the nighties. As my family grew so did my skill as a seamstress and, in the years to come, most of what my children and I wore were handmade: play clothes, school dresses, communion and confirmation dresses, jackets and coats and snowsuits, trousers and vests for my little boys. In no time at all, it seems, I was making prom dresses and then wedding dresses.

My biggest sewing challenge, however, came when my youngest boy graduated from high school. I was determined that he would have a three-piece-suit for the occasion. I bought a pattern and polyester fabric (which was the thing at the time), and succeeded in making him the suit. However, in spite of the fact that it fit him perfectly, it just did not hang right. A friend suggested that it probably needed a professional pressing. I took it to Twin City Cleaners and, when I picked it up, it looked as if it had come off the rack at Benoit’s. At graduation my son looked very handsome in his suit, and it went with him to college.

Looking back, though, my most amazing Christmas gift that year was from my father. This carpenter, used to his hammer and nails, taught a 10-year-old to thread a needle and guided her to her first stitch.

Merci, Papa.

Pauline Gelinas, Lewiston