The things I need to clear out of my attic have caused me a lot of anxiety, not the least of which are these 6 sewing machines I inherited from my mother and grandmothers. Nobody needs 6 machines, certainly, and I should get rid of at least half of them. However looking at them all together in a row is like looking at my maternal ancestry. I love them all as if they were my family. And they are such fine and sturdy machines, lost in a time when good plain mechanics and domestic arts are not nearly as valued as they were when these beauties were born. My whole life right now is revolving around these six as I try to determine their pasts and their futures.