The Apron
Grandma’s Apron
by C. J. Heck
Grandma’s gone, but not forgotten,
that’s her apron hanging there.
It still hangs in Grandpa’s kitchen.
Sometimes he looks at it and stares.
When Grandma wore her apron
it was magical to see.
The pockets held such treasures
for the grand-kids just like me.
Saw it shine up Grandpa’s fender once
just as pretty as you please,
and it wiped my brother’s cheek off
one time when he sneezed.
It took cookies from the oven,
it rushed to wipe a tear,
got a grain of sand out of your eye,
made a lap for the stories we’d hear.
It wiped spills up from the counter top
when she was baking pies,
a symbol of her love and care
and it showed, too, in her eyes.
Sometimes I’m sad to look at it
when I see my Grandpa stare.
Grandma’s gone, but not forgotten.
That’s her apron hanging there.
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Mom’s Apron
by Donald D. Erwin
I have many memories of my mother, but one afternoon, while looking through an old photo album I found a picture of my mother with an apron. As I looked at the picture many mental pictures of her flashed through my mind. Although aprons were one of her favorite articles of clothing at home she rarely allowed anyone to take a picture of her wearing one. Also, she never greeted a stranger at the front door in an apron, or wore one on a shopping trip to town.
During the week Mom wore a plain cotton “work” apron. It served to protect her dress underneath, but besides that, it doubled as a holder for removing hot pans from the oven. Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove, and when the weather was cold, she had a habit of wrapping it around her arms. On Sundays, or special occasions when we had company for dinner or supper (lunch or dinner to the uninitiated), she wore a starched and ironed apron. When not in use the apron hung on a special nail in the kitchen. All sorts of useful things could be found in the pockets of her aprons – safety pins, hairpins, a coin or two that might be handed out as a reward, and an extra handkerchief for children needing a nose wipe. On occasion, a corner of her apron might even be used for cleaning out dirty ears.
Mom wore a variety of styles for various chores. Every day, before preparing breakfast, she put on a fresh clean apron, and would wear it throughout the day. On the other hand, if she put on one of her big bib aprons I knew that she would be making something good to eat. Soon delicious aromas filled the kitchen, perhaps from a cake, some cookies, doughnuts, or fruit pies…her specialty. Older, faded aprons were saved for wash days and housecleaning.
Sometimes Mom used her apron as an impromptu basket for gathering eggs. She might also use it as a temporary haven for fussy chicks, and in an emergency even for half-hatched eggs to be finished near the warming oven. Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in her “everyday” apron. From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. Sometimes green beans or a few ears of corn from her vegetable garden found their way into the garment’s voluminous folds. After the peas had been shelled it carried out the hulls. In the summer and fall the apron was used to bring in apricots, peaches and apples that had fallen from the trees.
Many of Mom’s aprons were works of art; handmade or sewn on her old Singer treadle-sewing machine. On the other hand, some of her most utilitarian aprons, especially in our poorest years, were made from flowered flour sacks. Scraps of material, a worn-out dress, and parts of Dad’s old shirts, were also turned into patchwork aprons that were both attractive and functional. Every bit of material was used; nothing was wasted. Mom wore aprons even in her last years in the rest home; she said that she didn’t feel dressed without one. It will be a long time before someone invents something that will replace that “old-time apron” that served so many purposes.
Mom feeding the calves on the farm, ca. 1940