Alan Crawford

After reading Mary McTamaney’s articles on the “Bridge Bandits,” as well as sharing a few laughs and thoughts with her, I went upstairs and opened up a dresser drawer and removed an old box. This box holds a keepsake of my paternal Grandmother, Mary Emma Harris (b. 05-23-1893; d. 12-22-1982). In it is a handsewn pillowcase. This pillow case was made by her paternal grandmother, Charlotte Sarvis (b. 09-17-1840; d. 01-15-1883), who was one of Oscar Harris’ (b. Oct. 1839, d; 12-21-1921) four wives. Oscar is one of my Great Great Grandfathers.

Charlotte’s father was John William Sarvis (b. about 1814; d, 02-20-1911). He was also the father of James H. Sarvis (b 01-01-1821; d. 10-08-1904), the uncle of Homer L. Sarvis. Ready to be confused? Hang on to your hat and let’s go.

James W. Sarvis’ (b. 02-28-1848; d. 02-06-1908), one of my paternal Great Great Grandfathers, was the son of Harvey Sarvis (b. 04-08-1823; d. 08-27-1908). James W. Sarvis’s homestead is still standing on Sarvis Lane. Years ago, I posted a photo of the original farm my grandmother had given me of her grandparents. People have copied and pasted it, often erroneously, confusing it with James H. Sarvis as well as others.

Both the Harris and Sarvis families were large and spread out in our community as the families of the original settlers in our area did, including surrounding villages. And, to make it more confusing, the children were given the names of their parents and grandparents, further perpetuating the confusion. This commonality of surnames, coupled with identical first names, makes it appear these family trees only have one branch, but that is not the case, at least I hope so.
James W. Sarvis, and his wife, Hannah, are buried side by side in the Fostertown Cemetery, while James H. Sarvis, and his wife, Rebecca, are buried in the Rossville Cemetery. I was fortunate to have been taken by my grandmother to place flowers on her grandparents’ graves in Fostertown, so I know for certain who they are. I also have one rather unique family photo (top right), circa 1930. In this photo, from left to right are Elsie Harris (b. 02-20-1896; d. 08-29-1980), Hannah Sarvis (b. Nov. 1844; d. 01-15-1932), Emma Jane Sarvis, and Adrian Crawford (b. 05-16-1919; d. 03-17-2009). This house still stands and is the first house west of the NYS Thruway overpass on Route 300. There are four generations of my family represented in that photo.

The skill of sewing was passed down through the ladies of the family, mother to daughter, generation to generation. Hannah, and her daughter, Emma Jane, learned the skills of sewing to provide their families with the clothing and creature comforts they needed. These skills were handed down, generation to generation. Mothers taught and mentored daughters.

There were no Walmart’s, Dollar General’s, or Amazon to purchase a pillow case from. There were no electric lights to illuminate the room to sew in the evenings, only a kerosene lamp. They purchased the linen, or cotton, in a bulk goods form, cut it to the size they needed, picked up their needle and thread and went to work. How many hours were involved to make a single pillowcase, I have no clue. The embroidery added more hours, but embellished the pride these early members of our community took in their everyday lives. Looking closely, you can see how each cutout was meticulously stitched around with thread before being cut out! This magnificently added beauty in a simple fashion to what would been only a plain pillow case!

Their tools were simple, not more than a needle and thread, scissors, some thimbles, and other small hand tools. I still have my grandmother’s, Mary Emma Harris’, sewing box her father, Aurey Harris, made for her with a pocket knife and the wood from cigar boxes.

This simple pillowcase, an everyday item we all now take for granted, that we purchase for a pittance and considered a throw-a-way commodity these days, holds the memories of four generations in my family who perhaps rested their heads on it after a hard day’s labor, perchance to dream. The labor of love by one my family’s matriarchs. Thank you, Granny Charlotte! And, thanks to Granny Crawford for saving and passing on this family heirloom.