The history of the apron
Goes back to Adam and Eve
They sewed fig leaves as a covering
Because God’s Word they did not receive
There have been many uses
Of the apron over the years
But the greatest use of all
Is by a Mother we hold so dear
As she cares for her family
And the many tasks at hand
She wears her trusty apron
Which is used at her command
It was used as a covering
To protect her gingham dress
Or to cradle a weeping child
Who was hurt or in distress
It might be used as a basket
For carrying kindling or wood
To keep the home fires burning
And prepare the delicious food
Or to rescue baby chicks
From a soon approaching storm
To be carried to the hen house
Where they would be safe and warm
It might be used to gather
Ears of corn so tender and sweet
Or to gather vegetables from the garden
So she could fix a special treat
Mother may have wiped her brow with it
On a hot and sultry day
Or wiped a lingering tear
As her grown children moved away
She may have carried in her pocket
A letter from a loved one far away
So she could read it over and over again
And close to her heart they would stay
If Mother’s apron could only talk
O what stories it would share
Of a home and happy family
And a Mother’s loving care
By – Charlotte Snapp
Thoughts of Mom
My mother was born on October 21, 1927. She was a
small baby weighing only 5 pounds at birth. As I look at pictures of her when
she was a child, she appears to have been shy and insecure. She had a full
head of bushy blond hair and seemed to be somewhat awkward. Growing up during
the depression wasn’t easy. Her father was a pastor and her mother was a
homemaker who did the best she could to make ends meet.
She has told me stories about her childhood, some
of which are amusing and others that aren’t. My mother had a big imagination,
which she apparently used frequently as a child. She told me a story about a
time she was staying with her grandmother. She was about 4 or 5 years old and
needed to use the bathroom. To get to the bathroom, she had to go down to a
very dark basement using a long flight of stairs. Her grandmother was
apparently too busy to go with her so sent her off by herself. My mother
started down the stairway but immediately came running back. Her grandmother
realized that she had not had enough time to have gone to the bathroom so she
asked her if something was wrong. My mother told her that there was snake on
the stairs. Grandma went to check out the snake only to find out it was
nothing but a worm. She scolded little Leota and sent her to the bathroom once
again. Reluctantly my mother started towards the bathroom once again. Before
she arrived at the bathroom she must have had second thoughts because she ran
back upstairs to grandma a second time. Grandma asked if she had used the
bathroom and Leota replied that she hadn’t. Of course Grandma wanted to know
why and Leota told her there was an elephant on the stairs. Off to the
stairway went grandma and Leota. At the bottom of the stairs sat a little gray
mouse! Grandma soundly spanked Leota and sent her to the bathroom. This time
she arrived at her destination.
A second story she has told me about her childhood
occurred when she was 8 years old. It was getting near Christmas and Leota
wanted a particular doll that she saw every time she would go to the local
store. She said she would stare at it longingly and sometimes hold it in her
arms. She didn’t have much confidence in receiving it, as she knew that her
parents didn’t have the money. The man that owned the store would watch her
each time she came into the store staring longingly and knew that her heart
would be broken if she didn’t get that doll for Christmas. Christmas morning
arrived and Leota went to open up her gifts. Much to her surprise, there was
the doll that she had desired so desperately. The storeowner had given it to
my grandfather so that Leota could have her doll and have a happy Christmas.
My mother’s life was never easy. She always had to
struggle for everything she needed. She used to say that she could pinch Mr.
Lincoln until he squealed and I think she was right. Somehow she always seemed
to manage to get what was needed. I learned many things from her about how to
stretch a dollar and how to make do when the money just wasn’t there. She
taught me how to sew on an old treadle sewing machine, how to make a meal out
of practically nothing and how to keep going no matter what came along. She
used to spend many evenings crocheting beautiful doilies or an afghan for
someone. She taught me to read when I was four. I can still see her standing
at the ironing board ironing while I practiced my letters or some new word on
the chalkboard. I remember the smell of fresh bread that she would bake on our
old wood stove. I still enjoy the smell of fresh laundry because it brings
back memories of she and I folding it after taking it off the line.
Later in life, she took care of many elderly
people who thought she was a gem. She would go out of her way to do little
things for them such as walk all over town just to run an errand for a little
old lady who had no one else. I used to take her to visit some of these people
and they always were happy to see her. She brought a little joy into their
lives and they loved her for it. Many of them would slip her a little extra
money or give her some little trinket they felt she might enjoy. I saw a side
of my mother that I really didn’t know on those trips and I thank God that for
it.
My mother may not have had much in the way of
worldly riches, but she certainly enriched many others with her presence. My
inheritance from my mother isn’t something tangible that can be seen or have a
monetary value put on. It is the many things she taught me throughout my life
and the precious memories of the things we did together. At the end she said
something to me that I had not heard from her since I was a child. I had just
read one of my poems to her and with tears in her eyes she looked at me and
said "I love you!" That simple little phrase means more to me than any
material thing she could have given me. Mom, I love you too!
January 28, 2000