When I think of my Grandmother Julia, which is every day in my ‘prayers for the dead,’  I see her in her apron standing in her sunlit kitchen with the Gloucester fresh, morning sea-breezes playing at the curtains. A tall, slender lady with white hair, Grandma wore skirts down to her ankles. Her ever present apron with a large pocket double stitched at one side and tied at her waist was long enough to reach the hem of her skirt. Grandmother’s aprons were symbolic of her station as the lady of the house, ready and willing to serve her family.

My family lived in Boston. My three brothers, five sisters and I came to Gloucester, two or three at a time, for our summer vacations. It was then and there, in Grandma’s house by the ocean, that I became aware of how her apron was an extension of Grandma’s personality.

Grandma must have had at least twenty aprons, all with a small blue or lavender floral print on white background, percale, always crisp and clean. Every laundry had its quota of these two yard wide aprons to iron. The newest aprons were, of course, worn on Sundays or if we had afternoon visitors. The only change in pattern would be in the pocket, sometimes one, sometimes two - and when grandma felt frivolous, she might make a ruffle across the top of the pocket, or make the pocket round or heart shape. Usually pockets were huge, square and deep enough to hold all stray hair pins, dropped pencils, small change, and an ever present handkerchief to wipe the noses of the many children running in and out of the delicious smelling kitchen. 

I especially loved her older patched aprons. They were softer than the new crisp Sunday aprons. The older aprons smelled of Grandma and cookies. The magic pockets of those every day aprons always held some goodie, candy kiss, piece of licorice or penny for me.

Grandma’s apron did so much more than protect her dress. I often saw her lift her apron to dust a spot on a table or chair as she swiftly passed from one room to another. The corners would become potholders as she moved hot pans from the oven. When lying down for a rare nap, the apron was long enough to be flipped over her shoulder as a temporary blanket. An apron was perfect to carry string beans or peas to the kitchen as she stepped out of the garden. They were handy when shelling nuts or carrying ironed clothes to the bedrooms. Once I was surprised to see her take off her apron! She was going next door to a neighbor’s and since it was raining, she untied her apron and held it over her head for protection.

As her daughters, granddaughters and nieces became engaged to be married, Grandma started the bride’s apron trousseau. The trousseau typically began when a girl was eight or ten years old - embroidered sheets and pillow cases, crochet edged towels, table linens, napkins, etc. But, aprons usually were sewn last, in the latest styles. Brides’ aprons were very different from Grandma’s. Grandma was a fine seamstress and was expert at ruffles and trimmings. A girl’s trousseau must have at least six every day kitchen aprons, but then Grandma had fun using her skills to sew twenty more.

Now, sixty years later, my heart is still stirred by the memory of the best use made by Grandmother’s apron. I had bumped my knee and was crying. Grandma picked me up, sat on her rocker, wrapped that wonderful garment around me and comforted me. There is no better balm for children’s hurts. I cherish the memory of being loved by Grandma and being soothed in the all enveloping protection of her apron. It protects from the dirt and hurt of the world.

When my own daughters and granddaughters come to visit, I find myself saying, “put on an apron.” I hope they understand I mean, “Make yourself a lady of the house, loving and loved.”

edited by: Karen Favazza Spencer

Photo: Mama Julia, Daughter Antonia and Grand-daughter Margaret

Circa: 1920s