When my mother died, my father gave me her Hope Chest. Hope Chests used to be a tradition in families. Each girl in the family earned money to buy or was gifted a wooden Hope Chest. The chests had a lock and key and were used for storing what would be needed when she got married and set up her own home
My mother’s Hope Chest is mahogany veneer set in a checker board design from the 1930’s Deco period. I’ve loved it – even in its unfinished state (my husband tried to repair some scratched veneer and had to give up when it didn’t meet his perfectionist standards.). When my Mom was a teenager, she put her “treasures” in this chest – treasures that she made lovingly to use when she and her beloved were married: embroidered linen dishtowels with fanciful animal designs and hearts, embroidered double sheet sets and pillowcases with her monogram, a simple cotton tablecloth and two blankets bought by her parents for her Hope Chest. And eventually at her bridal shower she received things that could go straight into the chest for her wedding that summer of 1947. None of these things were still in the Hope Chest when I received it. They had been made to be used and were used during Mom’s and Dad’s 60+ years of marriage.
I had a fleeting thought this morning, though: what treasures I would save in this old Chest? Not for setting up housekeeping. Rather for keepsakes I might want to pass on. I renamed the Hope Chest my Treasures Chest. It is small in size so it wouldn’t hold much. What would I deem my few precious keepsakes? What holds precious memories for me?
One thing I would put in my Treasures Chest would be the box of genealogy documents that I found among my Dad’s things. Dad was keen on such records and they have fascinated me with our documented ties to Jane Fonda’s family, and the royal Stuart line, and family connections in the US starting in Massachusetts’ Bay Colony and today extending west to Washington state and north to Canada. So that is a keeper.
Dad gave me a necklace awhile ago that he purchased as a boy for his mother on Mother’s Day. It took sacrifice and saving up for him to buy it and it is precious to me. It isn’t valuable monetarily, but it means the world to me and when I wear it I feel loved. I have always treasured jewelry that was worn by those I love. I believe that some energy or matter is exchanged between things worn and the life spirit of the wearer so that when I put a ring or necklace on that belonged to a loved one I feel closer to the person it belonged to. I also have my great grandmother’s wedding ring and my mother’s engagement ring – those will be in my Treasure Chest.
There’s a family quilt with flying geese design made of chambray, denim and shirting scraps that signal its origin in the early 20th century or perhaps earlier. That will definitely go in my Treasures Chest. Many a relative (and myself) found warmth and comfort under that quilt . . . another treasure.
Perhaps copies of this blog would be among the treasures. I would like my thoughts and musings to be read – perhaps savored – by some curious family member in the future. Maybe it would be an inspiration to someone else to write their thoughts and share them.
What I am realizing as I think about what my treasures are, there are some that won’t go in the box. They are ephemeral things like the sound of my mother’s voice or the color of the sky – the bluest blue – on Sept. 11. The comfort and love I felt holding my newborn baby daughter.
Treasures I can remember but not save for others. And perhaps it is better that way. I will have my memories with me as long as my memory holds. And as I remember these lovely life-giving moments I am filled with warmth and connection to those who people my memories. And that is what I treasure.
Pilgrimages and Paths 