Sentimental is not a word I would have used to describe myself. Analyzing my mother and her close relationship with "stuff" it is very easy to describe her as nostalgic. As a kid, helping her decorate the house with my sister, we'd hear her say things like, "That was my Aunt Eva's or Aunt Helen gave me this." I didn't understand the sentimental feeling I observed in her until people in my life started passing away and I started living on my own. Now, dear mother, I understand.
Before I moved to Colorado, I had been living in my Grandma Josephine's basement. Sadly, on January 18th at the age of 94, she had a massive stroke and passed away. Just the night before her stroke, she was carrying on with her normal routine of dinner (the main course in which iceberg lettuce drowning in olive oil and balsamic vinegar was always a part of), sharing a golden delicious apple with my Puggle, and taking her 3-wheeler down to her friend Betty Jean's house for a visit. This was typical behavior of this very active senior citizen whom everyone in the neighborhood loved and looked out for. Living in Grandma's house without her proved difficult.
However difficult it was, I continued moving forward and thought about how lucky I was to have spent the last year of Grandma Josephine's life living with her. She developed a relationship with Puggle and I got to know her better. I learned her routines, habits, and best of all her stories. Sidenote: I'm glad old people repeat themselves. I must have heard a few of her stories multiple times and still have trouble recalling 100% of them. While living with her, I left an invitation to a dinner party in her basement on her lap as she napped in her reclining chair in her beloved "TV Room." She awoke, read the note, and RSVPed yes by shouting from the top of the basement stairs. She did not dare climb down the steps because she was forbidden to descend without an escort as per an official document created by my Aunt Rosemarie. The document was displayed on the low wooden door crafted by my dad just in case she needed a reminder. She enjoyed the invitation to dinner and wine in her basement & the actual food and booze that was had. After we colored on a mural I had purchased at a local craft store, the story-telling began. I was smart enough to record this session, but have yet to listen to it 3 years later. I believe it was the story about her appendicitis onset while out picking berries.
It was 2016 and I had 3 more months until I was moving to Colorado. Luckily, I had so many sick days remaining with my teaching job that I was able to take a day off with my mom. Our task was to relocate me from the basement to the main level of the house. The basement had been cozy, but cold. I even became accustomed to showering in a closet containing a small, but tall shower stall (RIPseuss) crafted by my father when he lived in the same space. It was minimal and worked just fine. However, I thought sunlight and heat would be nice and Puggle (current nickname: Esther current age: 91) would be thankful not to have to climb and descend a full flight of steep basement stairs multiple times daily.
On moving (aka elevation relocation) day, I brought boxes and random items up the basement steps and my mom organized them on the main level. We tackled the kitchen first and it was then she started to realize how much of my kitchen materials came from my Grandma Marge (her mother), my Grandma Josephine (owner of the current house setting), and my mother herself. At one point, she had discovered a bowl that she had stolen years earlier from Shikki House (a Japanese restaurant that we could only have once in a blue moon because it was expensive). She yelled, "Kelly! You must come into all our houses at night and steal our shit!" I was cackling & thinking that this was one of the most amusing things my mom has ever said. I must write this down. While shaking with laughter, I grabbed my iPhone and feverishly recorded her words in 2016's Book of Funny Things (4-5-16 Thank you, Evernote). She was right in that I had a lot of other people's "shit," but she was wrong about how I acquired it. I didn't steal kitchen materials from family members' houses like some type of thieving village/suburb ninja. There are perfectly good explanations for all goods in question. Grandma Marge's silverware, mugs, and dishes were either given directly to me before she passed away or taken by me after (totally fair). Grandma Josephine's cookware was in use because I lived there and anything I had adopted was family approved. As far as obtaining my mother's things...it's fuzzy. I can't really remember exactly when I had acquired her things, but thinking back, I don't feel as if any of it was gained maliciously. I am not the one who steals salt and pepper shakers and spoons at restaurants because they are cute, MOM. *
Now, unlike both of my grandmothers, I use the fine china and the good silverware on a daily basis. I think of them each time I sip out of Grandma Josephine's flowery glass coffee mug or pass someone a fork from Grandma Marge's silverware set that was only used for holidays. Yes, mom, I also think of you (and your thievery) when I use the "monkey dish" from Shikki House. Sentimental I have become and I am totally okay with it.
The truth is...Grandmas' cookware has gone through a noteworthy evolution. Growing up in New Jersey, the cookware contained meatballs, mashed potatoes, zucchini casserole, angel hair pasta, macaroni and cheese, and pirogies. Families gathered together at a large table to feast on its contents. Today, Grandmas' cookware is in Morrison, Colorado. It is currently being used to bake homemade granola bars in the kitchen of two lesbians.
There you have the evolution of Grandmas' casserole dishes. Thanks, Grandmas. I think of you both every single day. I wonder where the cookware will be used next.
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| Lesbians and Their Granola |
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| It looks like Aunt Rosemarie killed it, Nik-Nock. |
*While reading this part of the story aloud, to my mother, she picked up the butter knife sitting in front of her, paused and stated, "Who knows where this is from?" LOL
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