I see in their photographs that both my grandmas wear aprons. My mother sewed dresses for her mother, “Ma” Price and my other grandma…”Ma” Evans. Mama said extra yardage was usually purchased when buying material for a new dress.
Aprons were a versatile vestment for both of them.
One grandma wore bib aprons. The other one wore waist aprons; both styles with just the right size pockets to hold whatever was important to the wearer.
My grandma that wore waist aprons lived close. She was a bit proper and well mannered, but had a craving for chewing tobacco. Only the family knew of her habit. We also knew what she kept hidden in her apron pocket…a handkerchief with a small “chew” of “Good Money” twist tied in one corner.
My other grandma?
She lived a little further away…at the bottom of Howard Hill, where memories are rehearsed in my mind. After a big, warm hug and kiss, eyes focused on her apron with pockets; where there was always change dangling in a Bull Durham tobacco sack that had been discarded by a family smoker…without hesitation, running next door to Bill Neighbor’s Grocery Store to buy a nickel’s worth of candy.
It really didn’t make a difference in my feelings for my grandmas that only one always had change in her apron pocket, but after all these years…that particular memory does seem to stick in my mind.
Their aprons were a multi-faceted garment, worn to protect their home-made print dresses; with the prettiest ones worn on Sunday while serving dinner…no doubt.
Sometimes their aprons were for dabbing and drying wet hands of dishwater. They were handy for carrying vegetables into the house from the garden.
I witnessed “Ma” Evans more times than one, using her apron to carry in kindling to build fires.
I can only suppose that both grandmas found their aprons were “just the thing” to shoo a fly from the kitchen.
I remember when “Ma” Evans would walk down to our house in the summertime, on Sunday to visit. Wearing the same style comfortable shoes, a less-faded print dress, home-made by Mama, sans apron; which probably gave her a feeling of being dressed up on Sunday.
I also remember my grandma asking my daddy, in a whisper, “Cliff, would you give me a little “chew” of “Good Money?”
Bless my grandma’s heart!
Most of all…what grandchild could ever forget the softness of a grandma’s apron when using it to tenderly wipe away a tear?