Archive for Family Story

Aug
04

Aprons

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When I grew up aprons were made out of chicken feed sacks. This sounds odd and sort of gross until you know that during and after the Second World War these chicken feed sacks were made from one yard of calico. It was a selling point, I’m sure, since every backyard I knew of had a few chickens and a vegetable garden. That company wanted the chicken feed business of millions of women backyard farmers. Women also used these sacks for curtains, little girls dresses, napkins, place mats and pillow covers. The trick was to get enough sacks of feed of one pattern at one time to get the job done. It was a time of careful frugality.

Back to aprons though. Ordinary, every day aprons were once voluminous affairs compared to the stiff straight canvas barbecue aprons we normally see now. These current aprons have one function – keep your clothes clean when you cook. Aprons my Mother and Grandmother wore were for keeping clean and oh so much more. A good apron for every day wear was used as a pot holder to pull a dish out of the oven, wipe tears away, mop a sweaty brow, dry your hands fast when someone came to the door, and hold the freshly gathered eggs or vegetables from a trip through the back yard.

As I added children to my home, I remembered aprons and all the things they could do. It came to me for two reasons: my Mother was slimming down the amount of stuff in her home and handed me a pile to go through; and as  I loved to wear skirts I found I was using my skirts for all the functions an apron served – and ruining them! Of course, you might say, that’s what aprons are for! It also meant that I was going against the current fashion of mothers in my neighborhood, hard to do at a young age. Easy for salmon to swim upstream; not so easy for someone who wanted to fit in and didn’t want others to know she grew up on the farm.

We had aprons and I even made some. There were frilly little cocktail aprons made out of starched organdy, clothes pin aprons just to wear to the clothes line and hold the pins, and the ubiquitous barbecue apron. Have you ever tried to dry a little ones tears with any of these? They hurt! I suppose, like buttons on cuffs, we were to use those new paper tissues and not something as unsanitary as an apron corner. Humph! We also knew you had to eat a peck of dirt before you die, and now the farmers market doesn’t even know what a peck is!

Now that I have a passel of Grandchildren, I’m going to make aprons again, as soft and full and useful as I remember. I’m going to get a yard of bright printed calico to hide the stains and have a pocket in it to hide a homemade cookie. I think it is an idea who’s time has come – again!

Jun
09

Gratitude? Why Bother!

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It’s really easy to be grateful when the day is sunny, there’s money in your pocket and there’s no life drama going on. In fact, when everything is going well it’s also really easy to forget to be grateful! Maybe we learn our best lessons about the usefulness of gratitude when things are perfectly awful. Let me tell you what I mean.

There was a time when my life was pretty harsh and hard. We lived in a very cold climate in an uninsulated farm house that was heated with a wood stove, and kept our canned goods in the refrigerator so they wouldn’t freeze. These were the times when there were withdrawals from the food bank and ‘living high on the hog’ meant you found a pig to ride. Since I had three children and was expecting my fourth, I couldn’t afford the luxury of a bad attitude either! During that dark, cold winter I found gratitude was the best way to alter my own mood and therefore positively affect the whole family. It became my most important job!

I started a gratitude list on the refrigerator to remind myself of what I had to be grateful for especially during this low place in life. [It’s really difficult to think of things to be grateful for when you feel so desperate and low.] Of course I wrote on it:  my children, my health, the sunshine, wood for the stove, and friends. I also added music, laughter, family, nature, and a roof over our head. Then I hit ‘pay dirt’! These were the items that really gave feeling and meaning to the term gratitude. For us it could be summed up by mentioning a full refrigerator and a hot shower!

As our home changed over the decades, and our fortunes waxed and waned, there was always a list on the refrigerator to remind me of the amazing number of things we had to be grateful for. There was also a list of music that lifted my spirits, movies that made us laugh, and things that felt really good – like a long soak in the tub or a specific author. Years later when I talked about this to my grown kids, asked them whether they had thought of us as being poor, I was very grateful to hear: “I knew we didn’t have much money, but I never felt poor.”

And that, my friends, is good enough. A good attitude is always available if you want to turn your depressing thoughts into productive thoughts. It is an act of will, a determined shift in the inner dialogue; it is available to everyone. It brings you health and laughter and  good feelings even when you don’t have health insurance or gas for the car. It turns a supper of pancakes and popcorn into a party instead of it being the only food in the house.

As Viktor Frankl wrote about so eloquently in “Man’s Search For Meaning”, even in the awfulness of the concentration camps, attitude was the one thing the Nazi’s could not control. This was always controlled in the hearts and minds of each individual. [For the most amazing example of this, see the film “Life is Beautiful”.]

So take heart! Focus on what brings you joy, laughter, delight, and beauty. These are a more certain ‘coin of the realm’ than any money in the bank. When that bank fails, if your heart is full, you can freely move on to the next best thing. This is the finest lesson a child can learn! With gratitude and a good attitude, there is always hope.

Mar
11

Childhood Revisited

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I had a big birthday this year, my 65th in fact. Deciding to return to my roots in New York State, I contacted an old high school friend to see if she could come to a party in Brooklyn at my daughter’s home. Instead she suggested returning to the small farming town in upstate New York where we had met, to see who was still around.  This core idea grew wings, word spread on the grapevine, and more than a dozen of us decided to have a potluck Saturday night.

I didn’t know what to expect since I hadn’t seen any of these childhood friends for almost 50 years! (How time flies…) So I began to dream about it. All of us would be around 65 years old, give or take a few; would I know anybody? Would they seem old? Would anyone even remember me? I had been to other reunions at another ‘city’ school where I attended for my last two years of high school.  At the 40th reunion, I noticed that although many of the women were blooming and reinventing themselves, many of the men were ready to retire and were winding their lives down for the final curtain call.  Current friends warned me not to be surprised if my childhood buddies might look and act old.

Saturday night arrives and much to my delight this is a wonderful group of old friends that have just reached middle age! They look fabulous and shine with aliveness. The stories start emerging as we are reminded of things, people, events no one has thought of in decades! It is a lively, loud and exuberant group, excited about life, full of good humor, and glad to be with each other again. Apparently I have changed the most (maybe), and this surprises me. How? I was shy, retiring, and quiet back then. I held myself back to try to fit in. Hardly shy anymore! It is I who has come alive!

As we talk, I realize that life itself has rubbed off the shyness. There was no time or energy to maintain that persona in my life as all the various trials of men and children and family and making my way by the seat of my pants came into play over the years. My true self was forced to emerge to survive. All the extraneous pretense was shed like a tight skin and I am so much better for it!

More stories will come out of this wonderful evening. I can feel them forming and emerging in the dark fertile corners of my psyche and I will share them with you as they do. More than anything else I have again felt the strong, vital root of my childhood in my life – in my soul – and I am healed in ways that astonish me. I feel full of the deep strength of my heritage in the rolling hills of my childhood, connected to the people who grew there with me. Thank you, everyone of you, for welcoming me home!

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