Domestic Goosebumps

There aren't many objects that thrill me or that can cause chills to run up and down my spine. I'm pretty careful not to let "things" be my center, but I do enjoy a couple of material things very much. One is vintage linens and the other is vintage aprons. What is it about an apron that can make me dewy eyed? I think it's all about childhood memories. My grandmother "ALWAYS" wore an apron. She wore hers in the kitchen, living room, bedrooms, dining room and even in the yard. She didn't wear one to church, but she carried one with her in the event she ended up in the kitchen. I also remember the feeling I got when I put my first apron on and was allowed to work with grandma to make boysenberry pie. I felt so important. It was different than any feeling I'd ever had before.

Knowing where you belong is so important to the human psyche. Not belonging is a funeral dirge to the soul. Having self worth and confidence as a young person helps one become a productive adult. No one ever made me feel quite as confident as my grandmother. I loved the special quiet times she and I would share. Even when my younger brother and I would go visit grandma and grandpa together, grandma made me feel like I was the center of her world. I never felt like she favored one of us over the other.

I digress. The apron was grandma's "badge" of authority in her home. My grandfather was clearly the head of the household, but grandma was the directing force in their home. Her practical thinking and gracious hospitality made her tiny home in Redwood City, California seem like a mansion to all who graced its doorstep. Grandma made it seem "wrong" to work in the house without an apron. Not that she'd ever actually said it was wrong, but the moment I walked in the kitchen and asked to help she "dressed" me for the job at hand. Her aprons had the smell of freshly hung laundry. They were always crisply ironed and never dirty. Each apron was a work of art. The outside edges were normally piped or surrounded with perfectly sewn bias tape borders. They had deep pockets and would cover my entire torso. They were also supremely feminine and I longed to own one for myself.

My beloved grandmother now graces the portals of heaven with her presence. I miss her dearly when I think about her. My little sister confessed she misses her more having spent more time with her before she passed onto heaven. I understand her loss.

It wasn't long after marrying and starting my own home that I began to notice aprons again. I saw them in the department stores and in specialty stores, but they were NEVER as pretty as grandma's. I love spending time in antique and second hand stores. Being my grandmother's granddaughter, my frugal nature had me shopping for household needs in such stores. It was there I began noticing vintage aprons much in the style of my grandmothers. I bought one and then another, and then another. I know I have several up in my attic. I have a couple in one of our homes and a couple in our tiny farmhouse. No kitchen is complete without an apron! No housewife is properly dressed without one.

I am just as tempted by vintage aprons as I was the first time I discovered someone had foolishly or "accidentally" let go of hers at an antique store. I can get goosebumps today just by trying them on. I honestly believe I was born about 100 years too early. In my youth I served as a docent in a historical museum. I was blessed to work during "Living History Days" several years in a row. We churned butter, made sour dough bread, pressed apples in a cider press, ground corn for masa and hand quilted a pieced quilt top on a quilting frame. The whole affair made me yearn for harder and simpler times. Museums focusing on pioneer times are full of old domestic goods. These all make me drool and imagine earlier days filled with housewives doing their domestic duties. It's all so far removed from the world we live in now, but not so far from my heart. I think I'll get busy and make a scaled down apron for my precious little granddaughter and continue the tradition. I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it.