The Responsibility to Remember

The Responsibility to Remember

A while back I wrote a post about my neighborhood book club, and how we discussed the topic of everlasting life.  One of the things we concluded was that we live on in the lives of our loved ones.  I told you in that post, that it made me think of my Aunt Marie, my mom's sister who died very young.  I feel we have an obligation to share with the next generation, the stories of the family and friends who have populated our lives, the people who we hold dear, the ones who need to be remembered.  And so, this post is dedicated to my Aunt Marie.  I write of her because I want my children to know her, to know she was special to the people in her life.  She played a big role in my growing up, even though I never met her.  Her memory was very much alive in my family.

I've decided to share my aunt's story in a poem I wrote for her.  As a retired person (YAY!!) I am pursuing some of the things I love to do but never had the time, and one of those things is writing.  To that end, I joined a poetry group at the Senior Center and have met some very wonderful people.  The group is led by a very capable and inspiring poet who is very gracious in sharing her expertise and in encouraging us to write (more about this group in a later post). The following is one of the poem's I wrote for this poetry seminar:

Dear Aunt Marie

I never met you, 

Yet I know you well.

I know of your gentle spirit,

That so washed over a family

It left them lost and wailing

In the cold hospital corridor

When they heard the news

You were gone.

I know of the fierce love you inspired.

Of the mother who carried

You for blocks to see the latest picture show.

How she endured the scorn of passers-by,

Who spat their disapproval such a big girl,

Wouldn't walk.

I know of your unwavering faith,

Revealed in posies written to the Lord,

In pretty prayers beseeching saints,

In dozens of parochial girls

Who wept beside your coffin,

Knowing an angel was born.

I never met you,

Yet I know you well.

I see you in the sprinkle of freckles

On my sister's face,

In the eyes that blink back at me

From the mirror,

In the family line of sweet-hearted girls.

I see you in the cherished vase

That once belonged to you,

In the tender way it is handled,

For the precious story it can tell.

I never met you,

Yet

I know you well.

Love,

Karen

This Roseville vase was given to my aunt Marie when she was confined to bed after complications as a result of measles.  Her Aunt Thelma gave it to her and it was originally filled with a bouquet of Tootsie Roll Pops.  After her death the vase became the symbol of Marie's sweetness and goodness and became a cherished family heirloom.

You Wanna Bake Cookies?

Before the big snowstorm hit last weekend, I rummaged through my pantry to make sure I had enough staples to last the duration of the storm and it's aftermath.  I know, it's crazy...how long could we possibly be trapped in our houses???  But, as I scanned my shelves, I spied an unopened bag of...TaDa!!!...chocolate chips.  Of course, the perfect thing to bake to comfort us through the blizzard.  Images of warm, chocolate chip cookies, steaming mugs of coffee, and a crackling fire circled my brain.  What a find.

So, I quickly got to work and began whipping up a batch of everyone's favorite cookie.  As I struggled to blend the butter and sugars together (I'm not as strong as I use to be ) my mind shifted back to the very first time I saw these cookies being made.  I was in 7th grade and visiting my BFF, Sandi. Sandi, her sister Norma and I would often get together to play cards and games like Rack-o and Yahtzee.  Remember those games?

Of course we needed sustenance to wage war on one another (Sandi's the fiercest competitor I know).  The next thing I knew, Sandi was competently taking out bowls and baking supplies and whipping up a batch of chocolate chip cookies as though she had done it a hundred times before.  I was damned impressed!  The most baking I had ever done to that date was assisting my grandmother with the baking of Christmas cookies.  I had never made a batch of anything by myself, so you can imagine how blown away I was to see my best friend commanding the kitchen like an expert.  By the way, the cookies were yummy. And now, I can never make a batch of chocolate chip cookies, without thinking of that day and my  amazing friend.

I once received a plaque that read: friends are the chocolate chips in the cookie of life. This is so very true.  Sandi is the only one of my high school friends with whom I have maintained a continuous friendship.  She lives on the west coast and I live on the east coast, but the distance has not diminished our deep affection for one another.  How could I forget the girl who wrote on the chalkboard (to my mortification) for all to see "Karen loves Tiger Lou."  Tiger Lou was our class's version of the science nerd, and Sandi thought our classmates would get a little chuckle at my expense... oh, by the way, he went on to be instrumental in the development of fiber optics (sheesh... who could have guessed that!  Shout out to Tiger...way to go Tiger!) That's my friend Sandi; she has a great sense of humor and a big heart.  Who else but a best friend would traverse the continental United States twice, just to attend my daughters' weddings.  Sandi really is a sweet part of the cookie of my life.  Thanks for the memories girl!

And so, I guess, the point I'm trying to make is that it is important to take the time to reflect on who is important in your life.  Family are easy to love...they're family...ya have ta!  But good friends are precious treasures...cherish them. They really are the chocolate chips of life.

I'd love to hear about your thoughts of friendship or your memories of your BFF!  Leave a comment

A most cherished possession

Earlier, I had promised a separate post about my grandmother's china.  It is one of my most cherished possessions, mostly because every time I use these dishes, I think of my grandmother and remember again, what a wonderful lady she was.

When I was a child, my grandmother Lillian, lived with us.  She was quite severe in appearance and in manner, but there was no question about the love she had for her family.  Lillian raised six children through the grueling Depression of the 1930's, single -handed.  They all became upstanding citizens with a strong belief in family. When my mother married, she brought her mother to live with her.  Lillian was a member of our household for as long as I can remember.  It was my grandmother who took me to church every Sunday, who took me on bus rides to do shopping downtown, and who taught me to make the traditional Christmas cookies my family now love.  But, she taught me much more:  she taught me about the goodness of hard work, the importance of thrift, and the joy of earning the small pleasures of life. Every time I use these dishes, those are the lessons I remember most.  Look closer. Maybe you can see these lessons too.

When I was young, these dishes would be used only on special occasions.  Every Thanksgiving they would grace our table, and when the meal was done, my sister and I were in charge of washing and drying them...CAREFULLY.  We were told of their dearness.  Grandma had bought the twelve place settings and serving pieces, one at a time from quarters saved from her meager paychecks.  I don't know how long it took her to collect the set, but I know they were precious to her because she had to work so hard to get them.  I often think that we don't do that enough today.  My children ( and me too I must confess) take things for granted.  Instant gratification is more often than not the way of the world.  It's difficult to appreciate things that come too easily. The china was handed down to my mother, and then it was divided in half between my sister and me.  I house it in a separate cupboard, a vintage Hoosier, to give it a place of honor.

I've done a little bit of research on it.  The china was made by the Knowles China Company, which was quite well-known throughout the industry from the beginning to middle of the 20th Century.  The company closed on 1962.  This was largely blamed on tariffs which were said to encourage the importation of foreign dinnerware at prices so low that Knowles could not compete.  Sounds all too familiar in today's market doesn't it!

The dinner plates have the Knowles stamp , the name of the pattern (Princess Rose) and a serial number.  I believe the serial number dates the pieces.  In this case it ends in a 51 so I am guessing the pieces were purchased or were at least made in 1951.  Also, looking on websites, I believe the pattern is Princess Rose Coupe.  Coupe is the name of  a style of the handles and gravy boats and creamers.

I use these dishes all of the time.  I don't wait for special occasions.  They are very dear to me, and they make me happy every time I put them on my table.  Most recently, I used them as part of the table setting at the wedding breakfast that I hosted for the bridesmaids of my daughter's wedding.  I also used parts of my collection of pink Depression glass, so my grandmother's Princess Rose china with the delicate pink blossoms mingled perfectly with the other dishes on the table.  Pink was also the color of the bridesmaid' dresses.  What great luck!  Here's a few shots from the table:

Princess Rose fit right in along side of the pink champagne at the mimosa bar!

So that's the tale of my grandmother's china.  Do you have any treasures?  What  heirlooms do you cherish?