While I've been dipping my oars in the sea of remembrance (dang - that's poetic!) there are some things I've dredged up that I'd rather forget. I'm sure we all have one or two less than stellar memories that we prefer stay buried deep in our past. But, like it or not, our experiences and our memories of them shape who we are for the rest of our lives. That's what makes us interesting creatures, eh?
Whenever I think of my Mom, I think of aprons. Not only because she wore one every day around the house but because an apron is the perfect symbol of my housebound-through-choice mother. She had no self-esteem and was truly terrified her family would leave her. (She was adopted & always felt rejected by her birth mother, her adoptive father divorced her adoptive mother when she was 16 and died a year later the day before her 17th birthday, etc., etc..) I don't think she necessarily loved my father, but she married him a few months after her own father died, just to make sure she'd have someone to take care of her. Instinctively she knew Dad would never leave her.
For the next 73 years, until they were both put in separate Homes, she did exactly as Dad told her. Once in awhile there was a flare of independence, the last vestiges of a feisty girl that was drowning in a sea of fear, but mostly what Dad said was what happened. (And that wasn't always a good thing either, but I'm not discussing my Dad today. ::wink::)
When we (the children) went to the house with a police escort to take my mother away from my father a few years ago so she could have proper medical treatment and a clean place to stay, she was wearing an apron when she came to the door.
It hadn't been washed for months if not years, but I remembered that apron from my childhood.
All through the medical examination, up until the time the nurses helped her strip down for a shower and fresh clothing, Mom's hands alternately crumbled & smoothed that apron. Her memory was so far gone that she had no idea who her children were and didn't remember her husband's name, but her hands went through the old familiar motions.
Her hands that were always busy throughout her long life. Playing piano was her passion - when the time came that she couldn't remember how to play at the Home, we knew the end was near. Sewing, knitting, crocheting, cooking, her hands were constantly in motion.
I think she tried to keep as busy as she could as a distraction against the dark.
When I was digging through my fabric stash looking for vintage-type fabrics for aprons, I came across something that Mom gave me years ago:
This is an apron from the 40s that she had stashed down in the basement. I don't think she ever wore it and I have a suspicion that my Great Aunt Nina made it. (Mom tended to keep everything Aunt Nina made fresh & unused.) Here's what the apron looks like on:
I really love the design of this one and it's something I've not seen in recent years. I even did a search on Google yesterday and out of the hundreds of vintage aprons I saw, I couldn't find this particular style.
The details are interesting - darts at the back of the neck:
and also where the ties join the body:
Not needed, of course, but interesting. :) The only hard thing about this is sewing around all those curves. But I think I'm up to the challenge.
The first apron I make from this pattern will be for me.
And every time I take it off to go out the door into the world without fear, I'll remember Mom and hope that a little bit of her might still be hanging around to live vicariously through me.
What a cool apron! You have the actual pattern for it or are you going to trace the apron and make a pattern? I'd love to make one of them. Sewing the curves will be fun as long as you take your time.
Posted by: Jill | January 27, 2007 at 07:23 AM
Funky apron! I own a suitcase full of vintage aprons from my grandmother. You know, I have not had the time to look through them. Maybe I will find time this weekend.
I know what you mean about memories. You have the good intermingled with the bad. I also wanted to be like my friends, who had perfect happy memories, of course, now I know those people didn't really.
Posted by: Wendy | January 27, 2007 at 07:40 AM
beautiful post
Posted by: sara | January 27, 2007 at 07:44 AM
It's a heartbreaking story even if it did end with the neat apron part.
Good luck making the apron-you're so good at this stuff, it'll be terrific I am sure.
Posted by: Deneen | January 27, 2007 at 07:52 AM
Your tale brought out a couple tears over here. Thanks for telling it.
And I'm glad you found YOUR light.:-)
Posted by: Marcia | January 27, 2007 at 08:34 AM
Well she certainly raised a fearless daughter - good for her and good for you!
Posted by: jillian | January 27, 2007 at 08:59 AM
I love vintage everything but it takes a story like yours to remind me that while the things are great and able to last a long time the relationships were fragile and the people often lived in a world of hurt. Thanks for sharing.
Posted by: Pink | January 27, 2007 at 09:18 AM
What a beautiful story Bron. Thank you for sharing.
My grandmother always wore an apron.
I started making them several years ago when my sister mentioned that she couldn't find any in stores. I've since made more and given them for gifts to friends and family.
I think aprons have made a come-back in recent years; they have style and most importantly, protect clothing while cooking.
Have a great day everyone!
Posted by: Margaret | January 27, 2007 at 09:49 AM
Without planning it, I find I've moved most of my pleasure reading time to the internet. I track numerous knitting/craft blogs for the projects and for stories like this one. So poignant and so beautifully written. There are chains that shackle family members generation to generation, but your family's chains broke with you.
What a treasure you found in that apron! A family heirloom in perfect, usable condition; great vintage fabric; and such a unique pattern. I've never seen an apron like that one. I'll look forward to seeing you duplicate it.
Posted by: Paula | January 27, 2007 at 10:56 AM
Wow... thanks for sharing.
Posted by: Leisel | January 27, 2007 at 10:58 AM
That is the coolest apron! I can't wait to see how the reproduction turns out.
Posted by: Pfirsch | January 27, 2007 at 11:00 AM
So possibly a quite unique pattern! Looking forward to seeing your version of it.
Aw, that's so sad about your mother. All that fear. Poor baby. Didn't make her life any easier.
Posted by: Carrie K | January 27, 2007 at 03:41 PM
Oh, Bron, she'll be smiling with every stitch you make and every step you take. I know how proud she is of you!
Willa Jean
Posted by: Willa Jean | January 27, 2007 at 03:53 PM
P.S. And I LOVE that apron!
Posted by: Willa Jean | January 27, 2007 at 03:54 PM
I love this post. I love what you said about your mom keeping busy as a distraction against the dark. I love what you said about a bit of your mom living vicariously through you. You gave me a lot to think about.
I read your blog daily and enjoy seeing what you've knit, etc, but have never felt moved to post before. Thanks!
Posted by: Kim | January 27, 2007 at 05:02 PM
Beautiful apron and interesting story.
Posted by: Vera | January 28, 2007 at 05:24 AM
Here's to your mom and the daughter she raised. I hope you have some good memories when you wrap yourself in that great apron.
Posted by: Kristen | January 28, 2007 at 05:35 AM
Thanks for all the lovely comments...now, to answer some of them!
Jill - I'm going to make a pattern from butcher paper or newspaper. Luckily there are just 3 pieces needed! :)
Wendy & Pink - It's amazing how often "perfect" families are the ones most flawed. :)
Thanks, Sara. :)
Deneen - I have so many projects bubbling in my brain, I'm feeling foolish for taking on more sewing! But something about that apron just jumped out at me. We'll see how it goes.
Marcia - Some things are hard to tell but still they insist on coming out.
Jillian - Well, I try. Even when I'm feeling pretty scared, I soldier on. I think that's the difference between us - my Mom tended to stop in her tracks.
Margaret - I'll be answering your email - thanks!
Paula - What a wonderful compliment. I'm speechless. (Well, as speechless as I ever am. ::wink::) I'll be picking out fabric for my version today....
You're welcome, Leisel - glad you enjoyed it.
Pfirsch - Totally answered in email - you rock!
Carrie - No, it's sad when people's behaviors sabotage their growth & life rather than enhance it. But she could never see that. Sigh.
Thanks, Willa Jean! She'd definitely be happy I'm still sewing - that's the only class she made me take in high school. One of the "womanly arts" she wanted me to master. ::Grin::
Thanks so much for posting, Kim. :) I like nothing better than when lurkers comment. Just ask Paula! (Right, Paula? :::Grin::) I'm glad the post touched a cord, Kim. When I sat down to post it just came pouring out. I'm happy it made some sense.
Thanks, Vera. :) My family is nothing if not interesting. ::grin::
Kristen - Yep - good memories will hopefully outweigh the bad. At least, that's what I always strive for. :)
Posted by: Bron | January 28, 2007 at 06:46 AM
Oh boy, you got me there. These days tears come fast, and that post painted a wonderful picture (and not so wonderful) of who your mom was and the things she valued. In the end it is the familiar that keeps one going.
Great GREAT apron. I'm really looking forward to seeing your version of it done. And, If you make up a pattern, maybe we can all buy one from you! I for one would be all over that!
Thanks for the great post.
Posted by: Mary-Kay | January 28, 2007 at 08:43 AM
Perhaps her apron was your Mum's shield - her barrier between herself and the world, and she used it to hide herself from whatever it was she feared. Such a poignant story. Thanks for sharing it Bron. Looking forward to seeing your apron creations!
Posted by: Terri | January 28, 2007 at 06:34 PM
Amazing what memories a piece of cloth will evoke. And what fear will to do us. Thank you for sharing.
That apron is really interesting. I have not seen any like it either. I can't wait to see what you make.
Posted by: Amy Boogie | January 29, 2007 at 05:10 AM