Apron Strings

In memory of Martha Elizabeth Showalter, 02.20.1918 - 01.14.2009

The strings of this apron were sewn by the hands of my Grandma Showalter. Yesterday, when I heard that she had died, I slipped on this apron to throw together a curry for friends who were already on their way to our house for dinner. It was a poignant moment for me, caught between the desire to mourn the passing of my last grandparent and the oncoming reality of a full life. As I wrapped it around my waist, the apron tied both realities together for me.

I suppose Grandma wore this apron well--I can tell because of the almost-translucent patches of fabric just above the pockets on the front where she would have wiped her hands time and again. The entire apron is smooth and soft from many washings. I can imagine Grandma wrapped in its green and white folds doing the dishes, rolling out a pie crust, churning butter, or stirring up some soda cheese. No where else on earth have I encountered soda cheese but at Grandma's house, spread thin on buttery crackers!

Soda cheese was just one delicacy we might ingest on a visit to Grandma's. There may have also been vegetable-beef stew, a veggie tray, and grape pie. Almost guaranteed were popcorn (with that special sour cream and onion seasoning) and ice-cream. And she always had us put out the empty cartons for the cats to lick! More often than not, we would drink fresh grape juice from her stemmed amber goblets, or--in season--apple cider. How I loved to go down to the shop with Mom or Dad to siphon off our gallons of that pungent brew! Apple cider is still the taste of autumn to me.

And who remembers the little nut jar with pull-out compartment Grandma had when we were kids? Or the bowl of ribbon candy? Those little treats were near the end of the kitchen counter where they could be easily accessed from either the kitchen or living room. If there was a spill, we got out the little red push vacuum to sweep it up!

A visit to Grandma's house wasn't just about eating. It was also about playing games! How many games I learned to play at Grandma's house: Rummikub, Pictionary, Masterpiece, Aggravation, Dominioes, Triominoes, Disney Bingo, Othello, "Sowing Seeds", Fill or Bust, Cats Eye, and on and on . . . It seemed like each time we went to her house another game had appeared from a recent yardsale-ing spree. And of course there was the homemade "Peggity" board, a game Grandma could still play--and win!--just a few weeks before her death.

Grandma loved the activity of life. Travelling to see friends in Ohio or South Boston. Reading a good novel. Cooking and baking, canning and freezing. Playing games with grandchildren. Meeting with friends for breakfast at Hardee's. Crocheting colorful scrubbies by the dozens (she sent a bagful of them with me to Turkey to hand out to people). She was so busy during the week that she had to catch up on her napping in church!

As I gather my memories of Grandma, I realize in what a limited scope I knew her--only the last 27 years out of the almost-91 years that she lived. There are a trove of memories out there that involve my grandmother, many of which I'll never know. But I'm glad to have known of her what little I do. I'm proud of the steady, God-fearing woman that she was, and thankful for the diligence, patience, hard work, and love that produced my own wonderful mother. I'm thankful for all the fun she gave us and all the games she taught us. And all the pounds and pounds of food she kept us satisfied with.

And I'm thankful to her for introducing me to Zachary Zween. On the bottom shelf of the little table by the door were Grandma's children's books. I grew to love Zachary Zween so much that I got one for myself at a thrift store for 75 cents. "Albert Ames went first each day,/Because his name began with A . . . And who came last?/Poor Zachary Zween--/so envious that his face turned green!" Of course, the story turns around in the end and Zachary concludes that being last isn't so bad after all. On the final page of the book we find out that, "With his position, quite content,/He makes each day a great event./'Good things come last.'/Declares Miss Midge,/When walking over London Bridge."

And so it is with our lives. "Good things come last." I'm glad my Grandma could die peacefully, surrounded by family in her last weeks and by three of her daughters when she took her final breath. "Good things come last." I'm glad I can know she has entered into a place free of pain where God wipes away every tear. With love, we send her on . . . "Good things come last."