At one point it occurred to me that I should feel strange wearing an apron over dress clothes, but it really doesn't bother me. Then I realized that my own Dad has been wearing an apron over his suit on Sunday afternoons for as long as I can remember, and Grandpa did the same. Rumor has it that the neighbors used to heckle Great Grandpa when he not only wore an apron but did it outdoors while hanging the laundry out to dry. "Hey Fred, you doin' woman's work again?" they'd ask. He'd just smile and shrug, then finish the job before heading back to the house, laundry basket in tow.
Looking back through our early photos, it seems I didn't start out with a proper apron.
It doesn't seem to have gotten in the way of Sunday cooking, though.
A few years after we married Leah made me an apron.
She even sewed a little heart on one corner.
I'm not sure how vital a man's apron has been to these four generations of marriages, but it definitely hasn't hurt. I'm sure Mom and two Grandmas appreciated the help just as much as my wife does. It also shows that the patterns we set can carry strongly through multiple generations and color the experience of descendants we won't even live to meet.
No comments:
Post a Comment