I sometimes think I should have been born in
another time, another era. The late
1800’s or early 1900’s hold a special appeal to me. The Victorian era seems so romantic. I don’t know what it is about the past that
appeals to me. I’m very fond of indoor
plumbing and running water so it’s not the lack of modern conveniences that I
desire. I think it’s the furnishings,
the architecture, and the fashions I am drawn to. I love long lacy dresses and hand carved
tables. Parasols and drawing rooms and
horse drawn carriages would adorn my life.
I dream of being an elegant lady who reads Dickens in the library and
crochets doilies in the parlor.
My husband, on the other hand, is a
modern man. He likes sleek, clean lines
in buildings. He collects watches that
look and work like the cockpit of a jet airliner. He has no desire to live in any century other
than the 21st unless it is sometime in the future. It’s a miracle we can live together in the
same house.
When I was little I remember the pale
green cupboard sitting on my grandma’s back porch. It had 3 open shelves on the top with glass
fronted doors and two shelves behind solid doors on the bottom. The doors are locked with a skeleton key that
has long since disappeared. It is sturdy
and was built to last unlike the furniture we buy today. She stored her home canned fruits and pickles
on the shelves. She would send me out to
fetch a jar of pickles and I loved the look of the jars lined up waiting for me
to pick choose one. Her pickles weren’t
like any I had ever had before. She put
green food color in with the water and it turned them a deep, deep green,
almost a turquoise green. It was a color
that I’ve never seen in nature and it made her pickles extra special because no
one did them like she did. Because of
this they tasted better than any pickles you could buy in the store. When my grandma passed away and they were
dividing up her belongings, no one wanted the old cupboard. I was thrilled to take it home.
My husband watched me unload it and
was less than overjoyed. “What are you
going to do with it?” he wanted to know. “I don’t know, maybe paint it” I
answered. “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we use it for firewood” he
suggested. It became a family joke. If we were going camping and needed kindling
he would suggest grandma’s cupboard.
When we ran out of wood for the fireplace he would threaten it with an
ax. If someone admired it he would offer
to load it into their car. He sees an
old, peeling piece of junk with doors that are warped and won’t shut right. He thinks it is ugly and useless. I see my childhood when I look at it. I see my grandma in her apron standing at the
stove boiling vinegar and sugar for her pickles. I see a quieter, slower time that reminds me of
long lace dresses and summer evenings spent sitting on the veranda sipping
lemonade. My husband and I don’t see eye
to eye on grandma’s cupboard but we do agree that family is the most important
thing in our life. And we agree that a
modern man and an old fashioned girl can live together happily ever after.
