A LITTLE STORY ABOUT APRONS

A recent comment about aprons from Katherine Dunn and the photos Cathy and I took of aprons, set my brain spinning about aprons.
Aprons are such an integral part of my being. My very earliest memories are about aprons.

I will start with my grandmother. My Grandma Dutton was the most gentle of souls. She was a fine cook and taught my mother many of her culinary skills, as well as herbal/natural cures. She always wore an apron. As a child, I would cling to her side, waiting for her to move aside her needlework to reach in her apron pocket and give me a stick of candy...the candy box sat near her reach on an old dusty shelf but my piece was in her apron pocket. You see, my other siblings shared the striped candycane but my grandmother saved the solid white piece just for me. Thus, my piece of the stick was always in her apron pocket. Mind you, we all shared pieces of stick candy, never a whole stick.
Maybe Grandma wanted to give me a sense of being a little special. After all, we did share the same name...Sally.

The apron and Moma are so intertwined in my mind, I cannot see Moma as a young mother of five(before Dan) without seeing her apron in my mind's eye. The apron was a tool, a third hand, a basket, and a pocket for almost everything. In her apron pocket could be: nails, a handkerchief, money, safety pins,clothespins etc. Her apron was the handiest tool she had.
Moma used her apron for:
eggs,potatoes,radishes, wild mushrooms, cresses,hickory nuts, walnuts,baby chicks, unfortunate kitties, runt pigs, rocks, kindling,bulbs, tubers, seeds...anything and everything she needed to hold during planting season.
Her apron was also useful for wiping tears away when we were bruised, battered, bashed or broken....but, never, ever, if we were on her bad side. If that be the case, we could wail away and wipe our noses on our arms.....she held no sympathy for naughty children.

I would be remiss if I didn't add to this list of apron memories, my 4-H project. I had to make an apron. This seemed very grown-up to me and I excitedly picked out red checked fabric at the JJ Newberry's store. My little brain had not figured on having to sew this garment. I worked and worked, basting and sewing. The end result was: it seemed futile to work so hard making something when I could just wait around for hand-me-downs. My family has a long love affair with stitching...it did not carry forward with me. Try as I might, I could never get the hang of sewing..I can do it, it would have been a huge disgrace not to sew, however, there was never love in every stitch. Instead there was a growing feeling that should I ever have a choice, I would not sew one single thing. I have stuck with that sentiment steadfastly in my adult life.

I will finish with my career...chef, aprons. Part and parcel of who I am. The tradition of food, love and aprons did take on me.