In the era I grew up in (before I turned around and realized that I actually even lived through ‘those particular times’ now considered the ‘past’)… when a girl graduated from high school, if she was fortunate, she received a ‘hope chest’ as her graduation gift. This was what became the holder of her hopes and dreams. This chest was used to store the collection of things such as linens, household items, clothing, and handmade and collected treasures that a young woman traditionally accumulated in anticipation of marriage. Often called her trousseau, countless hours were spent learning the fine art of what women would gather, create, and share with pride to others of their lovely handiwork and skills. This was a big deal all over the world until the tradition hit a rock and everybody spilled out of the cart.
It was my Swedish grandmother who inspired and taught me the fine handicrafts that she had been taught in her youth…sewing, embroidery, crocheting, knitting, etc. It was wonderful spending time together, just her and I… and in her broken English and sweet patience, bridge a generation by passing on the baton of Swedish traditions. And yes, I did get a hope chest when I graduated. And yes, into it went my made with love hopes and dreams in the form of embroidered tablecloths, doilies, homemade items, and personal remembrances of things to save for another time.
Let’s go forward a few years now until I find myself married and with five children. As I look inside my treasured chest and tell myself it’s time I start using these things, the memories tug at my heartstrings – “Those were such special times,” I say to myself dreamily…Then I quickly close the lid and tell myself that this stuff is way too nice to use right now…(did I mention I had five really active children?) “No, I say…I think I will save these precious things for my children when they are older… they will be so glad to have them because I made them.” Again… let’s go forward a few more years as soon our children are contemplating preparing for their own future destinies. Yes, that’s when it happened. The old cart did a 360 and a figure eight on the ice and came to a complete stop when upon asking my kids if they wanted to share the spoils of my special chest I was met with smiles as their words sunk into my ears…”Mom, nobody does that anymore!” Wow. I had to admit I got the word…and as I looked down into the depths of my past, I smiled as the most pleasant thought came to me. “Hey, I know what I’ll do! I’ll keep this stuff safe and then… give it all to our grandkids! Yeah! They’ll love it!
Well, the baton kinda got lost after that.
Here in Sweden I see the same thing has happened. Second Hand stores…Antique Stores…the Red Cross Outlets…all over you see the previous generations’ pride in traditionally produced textiles for a proper home now filling layer after layer of shelves – all for the best price anyone wants to pay. You know why? “Nobody does that anymore”.
If only each piece could tell their own story. And by the way…Not long ago I did try once again to share my hope chest treasures – this time with my sweet granddaughters. As we huddled around together for Grandma’s big moment, I lifted the lid and as we began I knew it wasn’t a good sign when I heard one of them giggle and the laughing began as she asked incredulously, “Doily! What’s a DOILY!?” …!
This time I had to laugh and shake my head. Maybe when they’re older, I think!
..and, P.S. — Seriously, as the children have grown older they have come to realize that family heirlooms become such when shared together with stories about what they are and how they came to be, and the times spent together in the telling of them and about them over and over and over. Those items I had are now added to their own special things bound for their destiny as treasures down through the ages…and a part of me goes with each little thing…Bon Voyage!
