A very merry Christmas to some and a happy Thursday to everyone else.

I’m impossible to buy for and I really hate getting gifts. I love to give but always feel awkward getting gifts.  When family persists, I request commodities such as cologne or something homemade.

I get plenty of things throughout the year and really do not need more things. I think giving to someone in need or to a charity instead of to me is a much better thing to do.

But sometimes I am surprised.

The origin of this particular gift goes back to late 1950’s minor league baseball.

Farm teams were, depending on the direction you were headed, either one step away or one step down from the big leagues.

The towns were smaller, the crowds were smaller and the money was smaller. The parent big league team would send used uniforms to the farm teams to be recycled. And by recycled, I mean squeeze every bit of life left in some already used and abused uniforms. Sometimes the major league teams letters and emblems would be removed and replaced with the minor league names and logos. Sometimes it was just easier to sew logos right over the existing logos.

Such as the case here. It appears that a Washington Senators uniform had been sent to Chattanooga circa 1956-57 to be reused. A possibly ruined Chattanooga Lookouts uniform had the “CHATTANOOGA” cut from the front flannel and sewed over “WASHINGTON” on the hand me down jersey.

Flash forward decades later and someone buys the the jersey. The new owner carefully removes the two scrap pieces of flannel and are left with 2 items now, a vintage Washington jersey and a couple of scraps of flannel that spell Chattanooga.

I acquired the 2 flaps of flannel because well, Lookouts baseball history, but I had no idea what I would do with them. They were oddly cut and really not usable for anything I could think of at the time. I held onto them until the next time I visited my mother. I figured my mother was the Queen of Crafts and maybe she could figure something out.

I had all but forgotten about the 2 pieces of felt until today, Christmas morning. After watching the kids open gifts, my mother handed me a bag with my name on it. I pulled the tissue paper out and found a pillow. A grey flannel pillow with the 2 scraps of jersey flannel incorporated into the design. My mother had found a way to purpose these partial pieces of history and give them life once again.

I did get the cologne, too.