Memories in our Hands

A heartfelt perusal of the things stored in Grandma's cedar chest.

Memories in our Hands

 

                Amidst the Roaring 20’s, the summer of 1924 to be accurate, John and Hilda got married. We remember Grandpa John as being just a regular humble guy and plainspoken grandma always said what she thought.  Grandpa, as the story goes, first saw grandma walking down the street and told his pal that one day he would marry that girl. He did, and they carried the torch for each other for many a long year. We relive the memories we hold and stories told of the couple with the special items stored in grandma’s cedar chest.

Like a treasure trove of trinkets of times long past, grandma’s cedar chest holds a few of her things and those of our forebears who have long since passed. This family heirloom repository’s rich�"grained exterior remains quite glossy though shows some wear in scrapes and dents along the edges from the many years in grandma Hilda’s care and during our recent custody. 

Opening it up and making our perusal one to share, we sense a tang of cedar with a hint of floral perfume that might be rose, grandma’s favorite. A threadbare sheet covers the vintage contents therein and beneath the sheet’s corner is a pile of old photos. Right on top is the keen wedding photo with grandma looking flapper and grandpa appearing rather dandy. Grandpa as we remember much later on didn’t don a suit very often. The stack of photos tells a multitude of tiny tales of get-togethers and scenes of lives lived long past. We recognize some of the relatives in the pictures, but many of the faces elude us as we flick through the pile. Grandma’s faded ivory flapper gown and dainty shoes are right there next to a shiny black top hat that belonged to great grandpa.        

Pulling back the sheet to reveal the rest of the chest’s contents, straightaway we see the more fragile and precious items on display including a heart-shaped linen box labeled Genuine Geneva Pearls. Opening the lid, a pearl necklace rests on fine ivory silk. As age began to overtake her life, grandma distributed her personal belongings to the family and gave a simple explicit instruction: Don’t wear the pearls. Received as an engagement present from grandpa, this was the infamously cursed pearl necklace. As the passed-down story goes, whenever she wore the pearls, a low-key disaster would strike such as the car starting on fire but not amounting to a total loss and later, a brother who broke a leg though could have been much worse off. As far as we know, grandma never wore them in later life nor were they ever worn by anyone else.  

Neatly folded is the Spanish tablecloth grandma purchased when she visited us in Spain. Unfolding it, we reveal a meticulously embroidered design of sheaves of harvested wheat and baskets of stunning flowers. Recalling the reunion back in the 80s is a pleasant memory that remains crystal clear to this day. Moving on, a fine wicker basket, maybe for picnics resides along the side of the chest. Opening it up, we don’t see picnic utensils but instead find a vintage papier-mâché Santa Claus in nice condition although a bit faded from time and handling during many Christmases past. This hollow Santa gifted small presents to the grandchildren that usually amounted to fancy-wrapped candies or during better-off times tightly rolled tubes of crisp dollar bills.

Carefully protected within the chest are pieces of handmade doll furniture. Early twentieth century in design, the old varnished wood bears the fine rich patina cherished by antique lovers. Handmade by great grandpa, these miniature antiques were cherished and well taken care of by their owner and remain in pristine condition. To make a child’s pride and joy doll household, there is a table with fine inlay accents, two chairs, and an upholstered sofa typical of the era covered in mohair and probably stuffed with horsehair. We arrange and marvel at the miniature room setting on a small square of period carpeting while we imagine Hilda as a child had done as well.

 Tucked in down between, we pull out folded long strips of handmade tatting, a bit yellowed with age that were once destined for pillow or blanket edges but as evidenced by their condition never attached. Surprising us during our perusal, a large unsealed envelope holds a long braid of silver-white human hair. Relatives say that great-grandma Sarah lost her hair due to a disease that we are not privy to though guess it was a thyroid problem. A pink hat box decorated with flowers holds a neat little black satin skullcap hat with netting and flowers remaining in wonderful shape that perhaps she wore when her hair was going or totally gone.

                Looking down into a crevice inside the chest is the top of a bottle. Pulling it up, we examine a bottle in a caricature of Mister Pick Wick himself.  Lying prone is a pair of tall, shiny candlestick holders made of thick, solid brass. Grandpa fabricated these in the machine shop of the Pullman Train Company where he worked for many years before they sadly closed it down. These hefty candlestick holders could be used today as exercise weights though we proudly adorn our table in their original intent on special occasions.

A small library resides in the bottom of the chest. We find a bible printed in German presented to Hilda on her confirmation in 1916 with the title translated, “Sing Merrily unto God.” There’s a 1912 copy of “The Sinking of the Titanic,” the historical event that kept grandpa spellbound as it did for countless others of the period and since. We find a copy of “Barber’s Illustrated Proverbs,” an interpretation of the “Odyssey of Homer” from 1891, and a book in French, its title simply translated as “Short Stories of France.” No one speaks French nor can we recall who might have spoken it back then. There are other smallish books in excellent shape published in the teens by writers Shakespeare, Eliot, Dickens, and Stevenson.  Grandma, we find, was well read.

                Also sitting in the chest’s bottom are a pair of metal elephants, apparently not bookends, but one has a crushed head as if something heavy was dropped on it. We don’t know what happened to the head, but family legend has it that grandpa put money inside the elephants and welded them closed. Indeed they appear welded but neither rattles with coins and surely the welding would have burned any paper money if cash had been hid inside. We doubt that grandpa would have made such a mistake.  Peering down into the dark bottom of the chest and staring back to shock us, a small hideous face appears much like a grimacing shrunken head, but it turns out to be only a carved coconut. It goes on reliable word-of-mouth that grandpa kept a bit of extra spending loot in the back of the coconut head as it hung on the kitchen wall. An odd decoration for any era, I think, but maybe it scared anyone from investigating it closer and discovering his stash.    As we examine and handle these items, we can’t help but remember the couple married during the Roaring 20s and try to picture their daily lives back then.

                Sadly, we lost regular guy grandpa back in 1979 and grandma in 1999 though she remained plainspoken right to the end. Some of the items described are displayed about the house from time to time, and some are only pulled the cedar chest when asked about, but for the most part Grandma’s things remain put away in the cedar chest forming a treasure trove from another time. These things we hold in our hands reform cherished memories or tell imagined tales of the couple who lived in a bygone era.  

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[wondering]

takes you back even if its not your own grandparents, makes you thing of them and a time gone by