The "Mother Load," aka "All The Shit That's Fit To Photograph": Part Four

Yet more photos of items I've uncovered/rediscovered while on this archeological dig cleaning my spare bedroom, craft studio, home office "Den of Iniquity."

Here is a cross stitch sampler. Notice the date 1857. I believe this is the oldest of my items/textiles I possess.

Elisabeth, I can only deduce was either an aunt or the mother of my dad's dad's mother's mother, as my great-grandmother was born roughly 1891.

Here is a close up of "the wedding hanky." My godmother (great aunt) made this, and it has been tucked into the brassiere of my mother, her sister, me and my sister, at all of our respective weddings.

It's a simple cotton hanky, with bells crocheted all around, connected via what I can only guess is acacia stitch.

At the bottom of each bell is a tiny clear glass bead.

Looking at this hanky reminds me of how while I was still living with my (mom's first) cousin, how she had all of my aunt's knitting needles, crochet hooks and such in a container in the garage. The cousin doesn't do handiwork; and never asked me if I wanted those items, knowing her mother was my God mother.

Additionally, this same cousin had a huge box of family memorabilia (mass cards, newspaper clippings, photos of up to four or five generations' worth of family members, including some huge daguerrotype like portraitures of my mother's mother's mother's parents. She asked me once if I wanted them, knowing I'm also the family genealogist. And I guess I did not move fast enough for her liking. One day the box was outside my bedroom; the next it was gone. All those family photographs are now sitting in a dump somewhere.

To say I am devastated by the loss of such treasures... well? It's an understatement. It's as if all those family members died all over again, their photographic identities lost forever. Makes me sick when I think about it too long.

Here are a pair of antique crocheted lace gloves. I do not know the identity of the person who made these. Many moons ago, sis used to do at home nursing gigs and one of her clients gave them to her, and consequently, somehow, I became in possession of them.

At one time, maybe 20 years ago, I attempted to put them on. There's no "give," and rather than risk destroying them, I only look on them as art pieces and vintage work now. I love the little scallops around the wrist.

And lastly, something made by my Nana (dad's dad's mother).

She was well known in the family for her thrift. She and her sisters would knit and crochet all manner of things, and the scraps of yarn left over, would be used on her little Weavette loom to make all the squares. She made baby blankets for all of us.

Nana's sister, my beloved Aunt Eugenia, used to make all manner of fantastic doll clothes for me... and I am sad to report, I do not posses even ONE doll dress she made. No doll dresses, but I have this Weavette baby blanket Nana made.

Eugenia died when I turned seven, but I have vivid memories of her. She was a spritely woman in her 70s or so. She'd play hop scotch and jump rope, and run through the sprinklers with me. She taught me how to trace a snowman picture with tracing paper. The first macadamia nut I ever ate was at her house. There was not one moment in that brief time I knew her, where she was not smiling.

Aunt Rosie would make slipper after slipper, not one identical to the other, figuring eventually each would find a mate. Christmas would come, and hilarity would ensue for us, as none of our slippers were the same size. And Nana would unwrap gifts and take special care with the wrapping paper, folding it "just so," and tucking it under the cushions of the sofa, to be used for next Christmas. For some families, fruit cakes were a running joke, getting passed from one family member to the next; in our family, at that time, it was amusing to see who would get the re-used holiday wrapping paper.

Distant cousins on that (the Swiss) side of the family, would send parcels from Swiss Colony, and we'd all sit around just in awe of the goodies. Rosie would make gingersnaps (which really are more cinnamon than ginger, but I digress), and box them up in reused graham cracker boxes.

Easter was more of the same. We lived at the time in northern NJ, and would head to the shore to visit dad's grandmother (Nana) and her sisters. We'd have a big breakfast, starting with grapefruit halves with sugar and cherries, using those serrated spoons (does anyone use those anymore?). Our easter treats would be tucked inside vintage tins in the shapes of eggs, and would have Jordan almonds and ornately decorated sugar eggs and coconut cream eggs. We used to dress up for holidays back then.

Things were so special way back when. I miss those times. I miss everyone I mentioned herein.