My hope chest
Ihave not heard of young girls keeping “hope chests” in many years now. Perhaps the practice has been abandoned over time. But back when I was a young woman-to-be these chests were definitely in vogue. They were essential. Like the name, they symbolized a young girl’s hope for her future marriage. At our school, boys would be slaving away in shop class designing one for a sister or sweetheart (graduation gift?) or just as a chest for his mom for Mother’s Day. They were always careful to keep this a surprise and, believe it or not, no one else in the class told the secret.
Daddy bought mine when I turned 16. It was a Lane chest of beautiful polished cedar with a tray that swung out when I opened its lid. Loving the smell of its fine wood, I placed it at the foot of my bed and began filling it right away. In the tray, I kept small “keepsakes.” Just incidental memorabilia such as gum wrappers I’d saved from a boy in Junior High, a ticket from “Giant,” my favorite movie. A paper napkin (I’d purloined and slipped in my pocket) from the drugstore when a very special beau bought me a cherry coke. A clipping of another boyfriend’s track event. A candy kiss wrapper from another, dried corsages, notes, a Christmas wrapping bow … an old Valentine candy box and other souvenirs I treasured.
The following are some of the treasures I collected: six “Desert Rose” fruit compotes from Aunt Judy; a set of glasses I redeemed with Green Stamps; stenciled pillow cases I embroidered to read “His” and “Hers,” the words entwined with flowers. They took me most of a month to complete.
On a trip to the Ozarks, I asked Daddy to stop to buy one of my larger treasures – a white chenille bedspread I saw hanging on a line outside a gift shop in Jasper. It had a large peacock embroidered in its center. Today I would think it tacky but back then it was beautiful in my young eyes. I wonder what happened to that spread? I promised to pay Daddy back the $15 from my piano teaching money and I think I did.
Another big item took me all winter to “hook.” Mama and I bought skinny strips of colored wool remnants in the basement of Sterling’s Dept. Store. I chose a rug stenciled with fruits and vegetables to be placed in my future kitchen. The burlap of the rug material was scratchy to touch and awkward to handle. I’d grown tired of it before I finished. I placed it in the bottom of the chest beneath the peacock bedspread.
Aunt Sarah Ann gave me a real treasure – six pair of individual salt and pepper shakers with silver caps to set a fancy table. Her sister gave me six crystal finger bowls. I do not believe I have ever used the latter. They just sit in the corner crystal cabinet. I enjoy looking at them.
On a trip to the Gulf, I picked up the all important coffee table ashtray (circa 1959.) It was covered in sea shells and read “Biloxi Mississippi.” On a trip to Rock-A-Way Beach, Missouri, I chose a syrup pitcher that looked like a moonshine jug. My best friend, Suzanne, visited Asheville, N. C. and brought me a toaster cover made of red gingham with a picture of Biltmore Castle outlined in black. I used this for years. Our neighbor, Mrs. Dorothy, made me a beautiful striped afghan and, for graduation, my favorite teacher pieced a quilt top for me. Seven squares hang on a rod here in my office.
Wrapped in tissue was an orange juice pitcher and six small juice glasses emblazoned with oranges Daddy got through the store as a “premium” from Minute Maid.
There were also lace trimmed white napkins and many dish cloths and two aprons I made in Home Ec. I carefully wrapped every item in tissue and between each layer I placed dozens of packets of sachet I had collected from Avon.
Perhaps the most unusual treasure was the one I received only six months before I married. Freemon’s grandmother gave me a tiny box of formal “calling cards” engraved (at Hurley’s printing) Mrs. Freemon Winsten Miles, III. In her early married life (turn of the century) they were essential, she said. Mine were used only occasionally inside a shower gift. Yet what a thrill I had looking at my new name in print.
The cedar chest (which is known only by that name today) still rests at the foot of our bed. It now holds extra quilts, a thermal blanket and cold weather “wind suits.” One thing remains the same – the swing out tray holding the tickets, gum wrappers, candy boxes and corsages now faded but reminding me of happy times long ago. As Connie Francis sang in 1958, “They remain among my souvenirs.” They will live there forever. Each time I open the lid there is still the smell of cedar and just a hint of rose sachet.
Around June each year, I watch the ads in the furniture sales. I never see Hope Chests advertised any more … not even at graduation/wedding time. I wonder why? Do girls nowadays just place their pricey “Hope Lists” in store bridal registries instead of having the excitement of making or gathering these treasures themselves? Do girls no longer plan for the future as we used to do?? Do girls no longer HOPE?