The other day I was practicing a lost art…I was ironing! You know, that activity that uses a iron and a ironing board and you press wrinkles out of clothing. I imagine for many of you, this is quite a foreign concept, but before the advent of permanent-press clothing people ironed everything. And as a young lady, I was taught how to iron…starting out with flat pieces such as handkerchiefs, tea-towels, and pillowcases. My Mother would stand along side giving me instructions and encouragement as I learned how not to burn myself on the hot iron. Soon I would have a perfectly pressed item with her mark of approval for doing a good job. So the other day as I pressed her fancy, only for special occasions, ivory damask tablecloth, all those memories came crowding back…and when I was finally done, it too was perfectly pressed, just as she would of wanted it to look…and this afternoon, it will cover the display table at her funeral.