We, of a certain generation, save kitchen stuff. What is the purpose of saving an old burnt cookie sheet, a cracked wooden spoon, or a bent spatula? In reality, we think these things are treasures and surely our children or grandchildren will be thrilled to have them. After all, that cookie sheet made the best Christmas cookies ever. We save them, maybe even still use them, but to anyone else they are simply worn out stuff. Which is a nice way of saying junk.
Do you remember hope chests? Maybe yours was actually a cedar-lined cherry wood chest that held hand embroidered tea towels and linen table clothes. Maybe lovely items purchased at Jacome’s or Stienfield’s Department stores; or, if you were lucky, a matched set of mixing bowls from Sears and Roebuck. My hope chest was simply a drawer in my dresser that acquired the cast off utensils my mom was willing to part with so I could start a home. Having a variety of wooden spoons, a whisk and a rusty potato peeler was an important step to furnishing that first kitchen. I remember going through my hope chest carefully cataloging and checking the ‘Well Stocked Kitchen List’ in Better Homes and Gardens magazine to see what I was missing.
Back in the 60’s Betty Crocker was a household name and a kitchen goddess . She knew more about baking than any mortal could hope to learn. If you purchased her pre-packaged products you acquired points toward wondrous gifts. I remember each cake mix had a coupon for 25 points. Mom and I had everyone we knew saving coupons for us. Eventually I acquired enough coupons to purchase an eight piece place setting of Twin Star flatware. The coupons didn’t cover the total cost and there was shipping and handling, of course. I had to chip in my lunch money cover the difference. What a thrill, my meager hope chest now included a whole set of ‘silverware’.
In the ’50’s and 60’s it was simply assumed a girl went to high school and married soon after and lived the happily ever after bliss of Father’s Knows Best or My Three Sons; hopefully in Mayberry. These television shows were the pop culture of a happy life. Life seldom turned out to be anything like the TV shows but we were busy making casseroles, raising kids, defrosting the refrigerator, reading Ladies Home Journal magazine, and whipping up chocolate desserts.
When mom reached her 80’s she expressed concern about what would happen to all of her stuff when she was gone. Her stuff consisted of mis-matched cookware, plastic containers without matching lids, and assorted household items from the five and dime that weren’t significant in any way. It was sad in a way, these were her treasures and they really would never mean much to anyone else.
After mom was gone, my sister, Marilyn, and I cleaned out the kitchen, I kept most of the mis-matched containers, bent spatulas, the tarnished serving spoon and the silver plate sugar bowl that always sat on the table, ready for coffee. Indeed they are my treasures now. Twenty-seven years later and I still have them and I’m saddened that my daughter or grand daughters probably won’t recognize the significance of these well used and loved items.
Slowly, I’m divesting myself of these symbols of a successful homemaker. I don’t feel that anyone cares about this stuff anymore. It is just so much junk to be discarded. It is sad but maybe everyone has moved on and it just simply doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t really believe that, but I feel better if I say I do.
It’s in vogue now to embrace change, sweep out the old to make way for the new. I believe it is part of the throw away society we have created with disposable everything. Life goes on whether it is life as we’ve experienced it or not.
