Pretzels and Ramblings

Today is pretzel making day.  I grabbed the ingredients, bowls and spoons and went to work. When it was time to knead the dough, I reached for my wooden dough board and as I kneaded my mind began to wander (which it does a lot as I have gotten older). 

Most young people today (20s and 30s) don’t have the sense of appreciation for things passed down through families.  I once had a thirty-ish young man say to me, “Why don’t you throw that old board away.  It looks awful.”  I replied, “That board has great meaning to me.”  I didn’t elaborate because he wouldn’t have “gotten it.”  That board was the only thing my former father-in-law ever gave me.  It came from Mar-Bax Shirt Company.  He worked there for many years.  The company was replacing the floor of their trucks and a few smaller pieces were left over.  He brought them home for his daughters-in-law.  I’ve used it as a dough board, cutting board, and it has burn rings where I’ve set hot pans on it.  Yes, it’s ugly, but it never leaves my counter top.  Henry and I didn’t like each other very much.  We disagreed on 99% of things – most of which had to do with Ryan and Misty.  Not long before he passed away, I called their home to talk to my kids' Granny Faye and Henry answered the phone.  I hadn’t spoken to him in years but he recognized my voice.  He was already in the last stages of cancer and had become a Christian.  He wanted to talk to me a little and I got the sense that he was trying to make everything right between us.  I think he left this earth with a more clear conscience.  I’m bird walking here – back to my story.

My family has done an amazing job of keeping and preserving items from our lineage.  I love my great-grandmother’s bedstead that is in my guestroom.  I have my Aunt Ethel and Aunt Joyce’s desks, bookcases, coffee tables, plant stands and occasional tables.  They are old and worn but I love them.  I had a former (praise be to Glory) family member once say to me; “Why do you have this old stuff?  You know you could finance some new furniture.”  (And finance yourself right into bankruptcy, I thought to myself).  I told her that all that “old stuff” had meaning to me.  She just wrinkled her nose.  As I am typing this, my computer rests on my Aunt Joyce and Uncle Carl’s desk.  It sat in the corner of their living room.  It’s scarred, but I don’t care.  Also, on it sets my Uncle Carl’s pen and pencil holder.  It was in the drawer when I got the desk and I imagine it was the same one he used in the County Clerk’s office.  Also, on here is my Uncle Jack’s wooden card file – probably sat in the Sheriff’s office all the years he served there.

I use family dishes.  I love to use my Grandma Thelma’s beautiful fruit bowl, all my Aunts’ old Fire king dishes, my Aunt Opal’s orange and yellow striped Kool-aid pitcher and colorful metal glasses. (Kids today have no idea what a brain freeze is, until you’ve gotten one from a metal glass).  I serve meals (and get strange looks) in brown stained and cracked bowls and platters.  I don’t see the stains or cracks – I see all the good food from my childhood that went in those bowls and on those platters.  I see my company look over toward my china cabinet which holds the good china and then back at my table. I don’t care and they will never understand unless they come from a family that believes in preserving their history.

We sleep under old quilts – many friendship quilts that have the names of family and friends, who have been gone a long time. “Why don’t you buy velour blankets?”  “Why do you have these old pillowcases with names embroidered on them?”  It goes on and on.

I know they talk about me and say that I am an odd duck.  Again, I say, I don’t care.  Because what I have is a strong sense of who I am and where I came from.  I was fortunate enough to have family who loved me unconditionally and I loved them unconditionally.  I want to surround myself with things that reflect that.  So barring a fire or tornado, these things will keep their places in my daily life.  There’s nothing that Pottery Barn or Restoration Hardware, to name a couple, could sell me that would give the feeling of love that my “old stuff” does.

Misty has started asking for and receiving many old pieces to use in her home. I am taking bookcases and an old mirror to her when we go to her home for Christmas.  She has that sense of lineage and the importance of preserving it.  I hope that she will pass it onto her children.

The green dish in the picture was given to me by Mom. It rests on the old battered dough board.