Grandma's Apron

Guaranteed to bring back memories

The History of APRONS

I don't think our kids know what an apron is.

The principal use of Grandma's apron was to protect the dress underneath because she only had a few. It was easier to wash aprons than dresses and they used less material, but along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven.

It was wonderful for drying children's tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.

From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks, and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven.

When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids.

And when the weather was cold, grandma wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove.

Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron.

From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls.

In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds.

When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.

It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that 'old-time apron' that served so many purposes.

REMEMBER:

Grandma used to set her hot baked apple pies on the window sill to cool.

Her granddaughters set theirs on the window sill to thaw.

They would go crazy now trying to figure out how many germs were on that apron,

but I don't think I ever caught anything from it.

Funny Follow-Up to An Anniversary Remembrance

(Somehow I feel my dad had something to do with this. He was a teaser and a joker, and I'm sure he was chuckling in Heaven if he happened to be peeking in on Mom this morning. If you haven't read the previous post, take a second to do that before reading on).

Mom had a doctor's appointment this morning. The doctor feels her gall bladder might be the cause of Mom's stomach pains lately, so he decided an ultra-sound is the next step. Mom was a little taken back at the thought of a possible surgery and asked Dr. J if "they would cut on her at her age." Dr. J quickly told her yes, if her gall bladder was bad. Afterward Mom needed a prescription refilled, so off to Rite Aid she went. It was a long wait at the Pharmacy, and Mom and the clerk made small talk to pass the time.

"Today would be my 63rd Anniversary if my husband were still alive," Mom proudly proclaimed.

"Are you going to see him today?" asked the young clerk nonchalantly.

Thinking the clerk may have misunderstood, Mom firmly stated, "NO, he passed away twelve years ago!"

To Mom's amazement, the clerk questioned once more, "Are you going to see him today?"

Whether she realized why there was such a shocked look on my 85-year old mother's face we'll never know, but her question soon made sense when the clerk continued,
"My mom always goes to visit my dad's grave on their anniversary."

Mom and I had a good laugh over that one. ;-D


My dad and mom a few short months before Dad went to Heaven.

Sixty-three years ago. . .

February 12, 1946 was my mother and father's wedding day.

Dad has been gone for 12 1/2 years, but I know this day is still a special one for Mom. I remember their last anniversary together - Feb. 12, 1996. It was Mom and Dad's 50th anniversary. Dad had just been diagnosed the month before with adrenal gland cancer, a metastasis from colon cancer five years before. We had planned a surprise party at my house with 40-50 friends and family members coming to celebrate with them. Many cards and notes had been sent from out-of-town relatives. Sadly, Dad was just too sick that day, and we had to cancel the party at the last minute. I had made an album of the cards, and I'm sure Mom and Dad both enjoyed reading the sentiments of their loved ones during the next difficult months. Dad passed away that October,
50 1/2 years after marrying his sweetheart.

Happy Anniversary, Mom!

The Girls from the Class of '72

(L to R) Ginni, Me, Kathy, Pat, and Chris

How fast do 37 years fly by? Pretty fast, but five classmates from Green High School Class of '72 did their best to catch up in two hours at Panera Bread this morning.
I'm LOVING finding old friends on Facebook!!
It didn't take long for us to arrange to meet for coffee once we started finding each other. What a nice surprise to find Chris at the last minute and have her join us! She's still as beautiful as she was as the homecoming queen our Senior year. She is a retired teacher and proud to be nearing the 5-yr. mark as a breast cancer survivor. Three of us our grandmas. Ginni is a school bus driver and amateur photographer. Kathy is a photographer for Babies 'R Us. Pat is the Communications/Outreach Coordinator at a Christian elementary school, and I am a self-employed business owner. Our lives have all gone different directions, but we were amazed how much we have in common and how much we didn't know about each other in school. We laughed SO-O much as we shared our experience in marriages, parenting, grandparenting, hot flashes, ex's, as well as some heartfelt childhood experiences. We vowed that today will be the first of many get-togethers for the girls from Green. And we're all on the search for other friends with whom to reconnect. Today was a happy day. :-)

p.s. Pat is such a talented, creative lady. She amazes me that she could create something so beautiful in just a matter of minutes. Here is the poem she just sent to us girls:
New Old Friends

I met some new old friends today –
Found treasures from the past;
Our lives had traveled o’er the years
Down many diff’rent paths.
The dreams of youth – some realized,
Some worn and cracked with age,
Were shared with hearts of tenderness,
As one by one each page
Was turned to tell the story
Once hidden by the days
When children, seen but never heard,
Lived life in shades of grey;
While others, so oblivious,
Secure in warmth and love
Could never really comprehend
How push would come to shove.
Each life became a rainbow –
The hues intense and bold,
For every up and every down
Would turn, somehow, to gold.
The Lord can mend the brokenness
In ways we can’t predict –
He orchestrates the perfect times
When something simply “clicks”.
The minutes turned to hours –
This meeting soon would end;
But as it did, we understood
We’d rediscovered friends.
- P. Burk

Prayers for Delaney

We got word about our little great-niece, Delaney Skye Matasich, and wanted to post the blog about her journey with Progressive Infantile Scoliosis.

You can read more here: http://delaneyskyesjourney.blogspot.com

Remembering "The Building"

For some reason, perhaps because I've been reconnecting with some high school acquaintances through Facebook and my mind has been in "rewind" mode, I thought of "the building". I don't know what triggers such an insignificant thought, but I had to smile as I stepped back nearly 50 years ago to remember "the building."

I was two years old when we moved to Molly Drive in 1956. Dad built our little house on the quiet dead-end street, which soon became home to 13 families. The "circle" at the end of the street was our baseball and kickball diamond, and the hill behind it launched our sleds clear to Rt. 619! Life was simple and quiet. I was a a true tomboy in every sense of the word and a tag-along to my older brother, Bob. Most of our days were spent playing with the neighborhood kids, climbing trees, playing in the woods, riding our bicycles, or riding a cardboard box down our steep bank. There was never a shortage of friends or activities since it was unheard of for kids to stay inside and watch TV or play video games.

I think Molly Drive was once a part of a large farm, and we had mature maple trees, apple trees and a grape arbor on our property. The fruit trees eventually all came down to make room for the garden. I loved to take a salt shaker to the garden and eat juicy ripe tomatoes off the vine! Every year Mom would can hundreds of jars of vegetables to get us through the winter. Beans and cornbread were a staple, and many Sunday evenings we had a treat of fried mush and milk.

Dad laid brick and made a walkway from the house to the backside of our property. The walk led to a small two-room tool shed. One side had a dirt floor and was used for necessary things, but the other side had a wood floor, a separate door, and a window. Dad kept his tools and supplies there since the house was barely big enough for our family of four. Probably not more than 8' x 12', it was known simply but properly as "the building." Whatever Dad needed, it was no doubt out in the building. There was nothing special about the weathered wood frame, but it was a special place for a little towheaded girl with a big imagination. Dad never threw anything away, and the bags and boxes of "stuff" fed my curious mind. If I organized everything just right, I had a pretty nice little playhouse. A couple nails and some twine held a makeshift curtain on the window. My transistor radio gave me access to the world, and I could browse through the stacks of National Geographic Magazines for hours. I was never alone though. My dog Tippy was always nearby. One year the building became a birthing suite for a neighborhood stray cat. I stayed with that mama cat the whole day and still remember how funny it was for a cat to have her litter on Labor Day.

I don't know why I thought of that building. It's been long gone for probably 30 years or more. What I do know is that I'd rather have a wooden plank floor anytime than fancy ceramic tile. I'd rather have an old cutter quilt than ornate silk. I'd rather have a scented candle or oil lamp than a fancy chandelier. I'd rather sit on the back porch and look at God's creation than go to a shopping mall. I'd rather be just the way I am, and know it probably started as a little girl enjoying simplicity in "the building."

It was just an old shack to anyone else.  To me, it would bring a smile and a tear from the memories of 50 years past.



Below are some pictures of other favorite buildings and places. Enjoy!

Long Run Baptist Church, Herald Route, West Virginia was my mother's church as a little girl. It is still an active church home for many of my relatives.

My cousins live on the old homestead that belonged to my mother's sister and her husband.

The original Davis Homestead near Sutton, West Virginia, where my mother was born. This picture was taken at the highest point of the farm looking down upon the house and the driveway. The property was purchased by the State of West Virginia and land-locked when I-79 was built.

The original country store on Herald Route.

One of the out buildings on my cousins' farm

I love the look of weathered wood!

Driving down Herald Route ~ Make sure you have room to get off the side of the road if a car is coming the other way.

 

29 years ago. . . .

January 7th is a memorable day for me. Twenty-nine years ago, my youngest son, Keith, was born around 5:30 pm, the 3rd of our three sons. My pregnancy was definitely a surprise, especially with a 2-year old and a 7-month old already in tow. What seemed to take forever to happen (getting pregnant) was now happening quite easily to say the least. When Keith was born, Stevie was 16 months and Brian was 11 days away from turning three. Stairsteps, wouldn't you say? I've always said the first five years were just a blur. . . .

Now my baby is a grown man, married with a home of his own. I'm very proud of the man God has made him to be. Love ya, son!

Little Keithie - There are still people who call him that. One of my favorite studio photos - always with a smile and the chubby cheeks that got pinched for years and years!

Christmas, 2008 ~ Keith is acting "surprised" over his Christmas present. I'm pretty sure he picked it out.
Happy Birthday, Keith! Enjoy the last year of your 20's!