Mom had a dresser drawer full of aprons, all hand-made by her, all ironed and folded. The purposes of an apron were unending, and a hard-working woman of the house really couldn't function without one. The apron was a necessary part of each day's apparel, worn from morning until retiring, unless special company came when it was quickly used to dust as many surfaces as possible, run across the forehead to remove any dampness, wipe her hands, then whisked off and hung on a hook in the kitchen. This was only for special company. Otherwise, the apron didn't come off. You'll notice in the picture above that the apron didn't even come off for picture taking.
All the women in my neighborhood where I grew up wore aprons. There was only one woman that I remember who had a job outside the home, but as soon as she was home from work, the apron went on and stayed until bedtime. It was worn for many purposes, but first of all to protect the dresses that the women wore, as they didn't have many hanging in their closets. Mom would put on a clean dress on Monday morning, don a serviceable apron to protect it, do laundry, bake bread for the week, make three meals, wash all the dishes, and was able to wear the same dress the next day. If the apron had done its job well, she might wear it Wednesday. When a dress was especially soiled from work or perspiration she would have to bring out a clean dress the next day, but that wasn't preferable. A clean apron would be worn the next day.
My mother owned very few dresses bought from a store in her lifetime. She made every dress she had whether it be for every day or for Sunday and special occasions. She bought all her material on sale, and she made dresses and aprons from what she had. Seldom did she purchase special material. She used what she found on sale. All my clothes were handmade by her as well, and she had boxes and boxes of patterns and material for her and me. She would use a pattern many times, adjusting here and there, changing a feature to make it look different. She also made all my coats, my pajamas, even hats to match my coats. Making aprons was a necessity that even I was able to help with. Sometimes her pretty aprons were made with smocking along the borders which she or I would do. We embroidered for aprons, and I hemmed many of her creations and did finishing touches. I learned very early in my life to use a needle and thread.
Breakfast was served using the apron. It protected her hands when she poured steaming water from the water kettle into my cup for Ovaltine or the handle on the saucepan that held my morning cocoa. Her apron was her hand towel when she took her hands from the dishpan and laundry water or to remove the flour or lard from her hands when she baked. When she came in from the garden on a warm summer day her apron was full of green beans or sweet peas, and she would grab the chance to sit for just a few moments in front of the television while she snapped the beans and removed the peas from their pods. Another respite that mom took advantage of was peeling potatoes for supper. An apron full of potatoes would be carried in, and peeled potatoes and potato peelings would be returned, the potatoes to be washed and cooked and the peelings to be disposed of.
I remember a story mom often told of peeling potatoes on the front porch of the farm where they lived when she was pregnant with Marvin. She was visiting with my dad as she worked and all at once her baby, which she was getting close to delivering, kicked so hard that half the potatoes in her apron rolled to the floor. She would laugh so hard when she told that story of how she and dad laughed and laughed at the sight of the potatoes rolling off her lap.
On the farm, mom's apron offered many more uses than I had ever witnessed. Mom gathered eggs by using her apron as her basket. She cleaned under the fruit trees and gathered the spoils into her apron to bring into the house. Not much was wasted on the farm ln the 1930s. If the fruit wasn't good enough for the family, it was good enough for the hogs, along with all of the scraps from the kitchen. And her apron wiped down any surface, food or furniture or dirty faces, that needed a quick sprucing up.
Those wonderful pieces of flowered and checked material were adorned with pretty colored rick-rack and basting tape and were the closest place for me to hide, along with mom's skirt tails, when company came to visit. I wouldn't leave my mother's side, but I couldn't let anyone see my face so I would bury it in the folds of her apron. Mom would struggle as politely as possible in front of friends to keep me out of her clothes, but it was a struggle that she would always lose. I was shy beyond imagination.
Her aprons also dried my tears on the many occasions that I would fall when I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, or I pinched my finger in a door, took a tumble while roller skating and learned to ride my bicycle. I had many skinned knees and elbows and many hurt feelings from deserved scoldings that produced tears that were lovingly dried by my mother's skirt tails and aprons.
Today we live in a world of antiseptics and germ-fighting cleaners. Can you imagine the germs that collected in these aprons in the homes of women with many children? Think of the dirty hands and faces, and dare I mention the runny noses that were quickly cleaned up as mom passed by. I certainly remember my nose being wiped, my face spit-shined, my hands cleaned from the jelly sandwiches, and that blessed apron produced no illnesses and kept me as presentable as possible.
It has been suggested that our society should consider returning to the use of aprons, but I can't see that ever happening again. Mothers are finding different ways for satisfaction in our world by going out into the workplace. Some do this out of necessity. Some do it by choice. Being solely a mother seems to have been abandoned by most for different reasons, some of which I don't agree, and all of which is not my business. But I see in this different world of working women a major change in the welfare and behavior of our growing children, and I wonder if this change is robbing them of a childhood of warm and wonderful memories of mom's in the kitchen, baking and cooking and washing and lovingly drying our eyes from our childish tears, all with the wonderful creation of a beautiful handcrafted piece of material we called the apron.
