Tie one on

I can clearly picture both of my grandmothers, even though they’ve been absent from my life for many years. And when I picture them, they would be wearing a dress with an apron tied around the waist. Aprons were a permanent part of my grandmothers’ workday. Tying on an apron was as much a part of getting dressed as putting on shoes.

About the only time my grandmothers didn’t wear an apron was in church on Sunday, but if we went to either of my grandparents’ homes for lunch after church, or even later in the day, they would be wearing a “Sunday” apron. Sunday aprons were fancier, usually with handwork such as cross-stitch or embroidery, and many times with lace trim. Really special aprons for special occasions such as Christmas were made of a shear organza material, and they would be lightly starched and ironed.

The most important thing for an apron is that there must be pockets. Pockets were roomy and seldom empty. By the end of the day when the pockets were cleaned out, there might be coins, buttons, a stub of a pencil, a lost jigsaw puzzle piece found or even a marble or two. Pockets were valuable and necessary. Besides the pockets, aprons were helpful to dry hands, help to get a grip on a jar lid, and even to wipe the nose of a little grandchild.

I have, at times, tied on an apron myself, but just to keep something that I was wearing clean. I have a couple of aprons that I treasure from my grandmothers. Recently when we cleared out everything from my parents’ home, I ended up with a boxful of aprons. I remember my mother wearing most of them, but I know that some of them are from my grandmothers. I have enough aprons for each of my granddaughters and daughters-in-law to have—not that they will wear them, but they will have them.

Here’s a little poem, included in the book one of my grandmothers wrote about her life. It is titled “Mother’s Old Gingham Apron.” It was written by a friend in the church where both sets of my grandparents attended all their lives.

Mother’s old gingham apron, what memories it brings,

Used in olden days for so many things.

When handles were hot, it served as a pad;

For the help it gave her, she always was glad.

For little spills it served as a mop

And a shield sometimes from a steaming hot pot.

With little children under her feet It was used for a nose wipe for children sweet;

It was used for a nose wipe for children sweet;

Produce from the garden was safely carried inside,

Then it served as a towel when hands needed dried.

While searching for eggs in out of way places

It carried eggs in, then wiped sticky faces.

When at the door strangers appeared

Little ones felt secure from things they feared

By seeking a place to hide their face.

My mother’s old apron, what comfort it brought;

Never more will be found, though ‘tis earnestly sought.