Trinkets and Treasures - No. 12

It's been over a year since I posted anything in the Trinkets and Treasures category. I guess that series had slipped my mind until last Friday, my younger daughter's 50th birthday. I wanted to give her something special to mark the occasion, and the item that came immediately to mind was this garnet ring that once belonged to my mother:

Here's a picture of Mother (during her blonde years, about 1954) wearing the ring as she sunbathed beside the swimming pool at Fassnight Park in Springfield, Missouri:

The ring was custom made for Mother, a copy of one that belonged to her grandmother, Dora Hetherington Elliott. For years after Mother's death I wore the ring on special occasions that she might have attended had she still been alive and other times when I simply needed to feel closer to her. Its gold band is so small that I had to wear it on my little finger, but it fits Kelli's ring finger perfectly--just the way it fit Mother's.

Kelli and I both cried when I gave her the ring, the photo of Mother wearing it, and a handwritten note about its history. Through her tears she said, "Did you ever think I'd get old enough to care?"

Yes. I knew she would.

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 11

Almost exactly a year ago I wrote about my sister's gift to me of
our great-grandmother's bible. I couldn't have been more thrilled than I was to have that precious book, more than a century old, in my home. It didn't take long, though, to realize I was ill-equipped to care for it properly.

When the bible was left out where it could be seen and appreciated, I worried that household dust would harm it. But the bible is large and heavy, so I knew that if I wrapped it up and put it a closet or a drawer, I wouldn't be inclined to take it out and look at it often.

Then I got lucky.

My stepsister's husband is a talented woodworker. Earlier this year he offered to build something for me, and I asked if he could build a box to hold Grandma's bible. He could, he did, and it's more beautiful than I could have imagined.

The bible now rests safely inside its custom-made box on the end of my dresser. I love to run my fingers across the smooth surface of the quilted-cherry box top, and I lift that lid frequently, both to look at the bible and to get a good whiff of the sawdust scent that lingers there.

The newer treasure, like the antique one it holds, is an ever-present reminder of the ties that bind our family across miles and generations. That's pretty special, if you ask me.

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 10

After my aunt Nina passed away this past November, her closest family members worked together to sort through her things and clear out her house. Her sister-in-law, my aunt Carol, found photos of my father and sent them to me and my sister. The photos, mostly from World War II, became instant treasures.

Early in 1943 my mother wrote this in my baby book: "Her daddy leaves for the army on Feb. 25th one day before she's 3 mos. old." Nobody knew then that the times he would spend with us after that would be short, sporadic, and often sorrowful.

In my father's later years, after we both made an effort to get better acquainted, he would talk very little about the war. When he did speak of it, he cried. I knew that the war had profoundly affected the man my father had become, but I knew almost nothing of the adventurous 19-year-old boy who had left home to fight it.

These photos my Aunt Carol sent helped me to see that side of him.

My father, Paul, second from left. The notation on the back of the photo reads, 

"This is one of our planes that had to make a crash landing near the front lines."

My father, at left front, smiling with his buddies.

My father, trying out the pilot's seat.

My father, left, obviously enjoying the experience.

My father, center, walking with his buddies

through the snow-covered streets of France.

My father, on the sled. Notation on the photo:

"These are French children."

It warmed my heart to see the above photos of my father, playful in the company of some of his "band of brothers." And then I came upon another photograph, one taken on a different day, and it chilled me to the bone.

Notation on back of photo identifies this group of people as "German prisoners."

Yes, I know they were our enemies, but they were boys, boys like my father and his buddies in the first six photos of this post, and I can imagine how frightened they must have been. 

When my father talked about the war nearly fifty years after it ended, he talked specifically about a face-to-face encounter he had with a German soldier as he rounded a corner in a shelled-out building. They made eye contact, my father told me, and the young German shouted only one word, one my father didn't understand, before my father shot him. Tears streamed down my father's face as he told me about learning later that that German word meant "please."

I am so grateful to Aunt Carol for sending these photos and to Aunt Nina for keeping them all these years. Somehow, seeing evidence that my father had some good days in the midst of the hellishness that is war gives me peace.

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 9

I'm happy with most of the furniture in my house, but only a couple of pieces are really special to me. You've seen a picture of one of those pieces at least once before, and today I want to tell you why I love it so much.

This piece stood in the dining room of my grandmother's house (the home of my childhood) from the earliest days I can remember. I don't know if it was hers to begin with or if it had first belonged to her mother, Dora, who was also part of our multi-generational household.

After my grandmother passed away, my sister kept this piece and cared for it lovingly in her own home. It came to me eleven years later, after our mother died, and I hope it will always have a place with someone in our family.

You can't tell by looking at it, but it's actually made in two parts: the hutch sits on top of the secretary. When the hutch is lifted off, there's a span of wood on the secretary that isn't covered by the veneer that was so carefully applied to the rest of the piece. That patch of rough-hewn lumber demonstrates the age of this built-by-hand piece, as do the dovetail joints of the drawers and the slight rippling of the glass. The hinged half-top of the secretary folds out into a worn leather desktop.

When my sister passed this family heirloom on to me, she asked, "Did you ever know there's a hidden compartment in this?" I had not known it. I, who as a child had gone surreptitiously through every inch of that house with the thoroughness of a government agent, had somehow missed this.

The top of the hutch lifts up to reveal a secret space large enough to hold a good portion of a family's valuables. (I can show you this because I have no valuables to store in that space.)

I looked down on the top of this piece every time I went down the stairs from my bedroom for more than fourteen years and never suspected it was keeping a secret. My grandmother kept doilies on most of the flat wooden surfaces in our home, and there was always a crochet-edged scarf covering the tiny hinges on top of this.

I wonder what other interesting things I might have missed in my covert spy missions.

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 8

We're definitely in trinket territory today, but there's something about this particular napkin-holder that appeals to me every time I see it. I bought it at least thirty years ago, in Georgia, I think. Though it's no longer in use (my "napkins" come on a roll now), it's always on display somewhere in my kitchen.

Who would have thought that a handful of colorful grains, encapsulated in Lucite, would have the power to make me happy for so many years?

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 7

This chess set was a gift from my daughters many, many years ago, and I've treasured it from the moment I saw it. I love the carved wood, the colorful tiles, and, especially, the feel of the soapstone pieces. The king lies heavy in my hand and stands slightly taller than the length of my palm.

It's been quite a while since I've had a chess partner, so this beautiful set has been folded up and stored on a shelf among other games and puzzles that don't have nearly as much  sentimental value. It really deserves its own place of honor.

In the last games that really stand out in my mind, my worthy partner was my then eight-year-old grandson (who recently turned 22). At the end of one game, as we were setting up the board for the next, he paused, holding a chess piece in his hand, a seriously thoughtful  expression on his face. "Grammy," he asked, "when you die, can I have this chess set?"

I loved that moment. There was no sense of urgency in his request, and I was delighted to know that he was enjoying himself enough to ask such a question.

I'm going on record here that when that time comes, the chess set goes to Koby.

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 6 - A gift that keeps on giving

When my sister came from her home in Texas to pick me for our vacation, she brought me a gift I'll treasure forever:  a family Bible that dates back to the end of the 19th century.

I'd known of the Bible's existence since shortly after my grandmother passed away in 1988. At that time it was in the hands of her brother, my Great-Uncle Loren, who lived in Florida at the time. Loren died in 1991; his wife Hazel in 1997. I don't know if my mother came into possession of the Bible after their deaths or if one of them personally handed it over to her. At any rate, by the time I knew Mother had it, she couldn't find it. She had put it away, possibly in the attic, she thought, but she couldn't be sure.

In 1997 or 1998 Mother had a new house built. After she moved into it, both my niece and my sister, at different times, lived in her old house for a while. I think it was one of them who found the Bible. My sister kept it on display in her home for quite a few years. I was thrilled when she gave it to me.

This Bible is a beautiful book. It's also very large. I laid my hand beside it in this photo to help you see how big it is:

I've looked all through the Bible and can't find a publication date, but there's a table inside it that was compiled in 1892, and my theory is that this Bible was a gift to my great-grandmother, Dora Hetherington, from her parents when she married in 1895.

Dora was the daughter of Alvin Christmas Hetherington and Anna Lementine Goforth Hetherington. Alvin and Anna had two other children, Stella and Roscoe, both of whom were younger than Dora. Here's a picture of the whole family:

Front Row (L-R): Anna and Alvin Hetherington

Back Row (L-R): Stella, Roscoe, and Dora Hetherington

Now let me show you what was written in the Bible:

(Click the picture to enlarge it.)

Now let's play detective. The inscriptions at the top of both pages refer to "the family of Alvin Hetherington," Dora's father. The left-hand page lists the marriage of Alvin and Anna as well as Dora's, and the right-hand page names all three children of Alvin and Anna. So far, I'm thinking the handwriting belongs to either Anna or Alvin. Not Dora. 

Here's why: The last entry on the left-hand page reads, "Dora Belle Hetherington was married in Newton County, Missouri, July 18th, 1895." Don't you think that if Dora had written this herself, she might have been inclined to mention her husband by name? And don't you think she would have used these pages to keep records of her own family, as opposed to her birth family?

Also, Dora's sister, Stella, got married only thirteen months after Dora did, yet there's no mention of Stella's marriage on these pages. That makes me think the Bible passed into Dora's hands at some point between her wedding and Stella's, and that's why I'm guessing it was a wedding gift to Dora. Something of her old family to take with her to her new home.

So, fellow Sherlocks, does that theory make sense to you? If it does, then we can deduce that the book was published sometime between 1892 (the date on the table I found inside it) and 1895, making it at least 116 years old.

I've searched all over the Internet--with no luck--to try to figure out when this volume might have been published. If you have other ideas or theories, I hope you'll share them.

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 5

This delicate ring, so small it fits only on my little finger, was my mother's second wedding ring. Not the ring from her second marriage, but the second ring from her first marriage. My father hocked her original wedding ring when she was in the hospital giving birth to me, their firstborn child. Logic tells me he probably needed money for the hospital bill, but I don't think Mother was ever completely convinced of that.

When my father eventually replaced Mother's original wedding ring, he told her he had chosen this one specifically because of its symbolism: two larger hearts representing each of them and a tiny heart in the middle for me. Whether that was the truth or merely a convenient means of persuading mother to accept a ring of much lower quality than her first one, the story still makes me smile.

You see, my father had a way with words, and it kept him out of trouble on many occasions.   Even when he failed to talk himself out of a sitution, he was still proud of that particular talent.

So, if you detect the slightest bit of amused skepticism in regard to the story about the ring, consider this: My father once casually mentioned that he had made "plenty of extra cash" when he was overseas in World War II. How'd he do it? He wrote love letters home for other soldiers -- for a fee.

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 4

This bone-handled carving knife has been in my family since before I was born. It was a wedding gift to my maternal grandparents, who married in 1919. My grandmother and mother used it in preparation of most of the meals I ate until my mother remarried in 1957 and we left my grandmother's house to move to Texas.

After Mammaw died in 1988, Mother used the knife in her own kitchen on a daily basis. It came into my hands when Mother passed in 1999, at which time I retired it from regular use. No doubt it would still work beautifully to make perfect slices of tomato or roast beef, but its blade is almost paper thin, and I don't want it to break on my watch.

The knife is a thing of beauty, chipped and battered as it is. I'd like to mount it in a shadowbox and hang it in my kitchen. So far I haven't found the right-sized shadowbox, but I'm still looking. I think the knife has shown its durability and will wait for me.

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 3

Here's a small item that I treasure in a big way:

This little glass dish may appear to be empty, but it's actually full of childhood memories. It used to sit on my grandmother's dresser, where it held hairpins and bobby pins at her fingertips when she swept up her hair each morning.

My grandmother also had a large, heavy, V-shaped magnet, and I loved to play with the magnet and the bowl of bobby pins. I would dump the pins out on Mammaw's bedroom floor and arrange them into an elaborate design, only to eradicate the whole thing a minute later with one grand sweep of the powerful magnet. Then I'd do it all over again. And again and again.

(It occurs to me as I'm writing this that I can only think of one other thing that fascinated me in a scientific way as much as magnetic attraction did when I was a child. That other thing would be the way mercury from a broken thermometer spilled out onto the floor and formed tiny silver balls that we rolled around with our fingertips one long afternoon, smashing the larger balls into many smaller ones, just as round, then pushing the tiny balls back together to form a large ball again. No child would be allowed to play with mercury today, but if that exposure harmed me in any way, I'm not aware of it. Then again, maybe that could explain a thing or two.)

I don't know what happened to my grandmother's big magnet, but the pretty glass bowl came home with me after she passed away. I'm glad to have it as a reminder of those times and as a link between her life and mine. To make things even better, I have this picture (taken in 1950) of Mammaw doing her hair, the little glass dish on the dresser in front of her:

(Click photo to enlarge.)

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 2

The last item I showed you was a trinket, but this one is a real treasure, at least to me. I'm pretty sure the genealogy enthusiasts among you will appreciate it, too. It's the oldest thing I own--an original letter written in 1858 to my great-great-great-grandfather, Abraham H. Hetherington, by his brother, Isaac.

The letter came to me when my grandmother died in 1988. It was stuffed in an envelope with other family history documents. It was sealed in plastic then and remains in the same plastic today. Unfortunately, even in that protective environment,  a portion of the letter has separated from the rest along a fold line.

Here it is, front and back:

In this letter Isaac addressed the problem of moving his and Abraham's parents from where they lived then to a better place, and declined without much of an explanation to do the job himself. Here's a typed transcript of the text (blank lines denote illegible words):

          Brandonville, VA. May 17th, 1858 

Dear Brother, 

Yours of 30th Ult. came duly here. 

We are well. I was glad to hear you all enjoy 

good health. You write concerning Father & 

Mother. You think the matter of attending 

to their removal devolves on me. You will 

understand me, that I feel as you on this 

subject, but how under the present cir- 

cumstances I can go, I cannot see. I com- 

ply with your wish in informing you 

thus. If I could at all do it, I surely 

would attend to this duty without delay. 

I hope you or your son will proceed 

to attend to getting them out & that they 

may reach there in safety and that 

the Almighty may spare them long. 

It is heartrending to hear of their suffering and we 

well blame ourselves. I remember of sending the old 

folks some years ago five dollars. I believe this was 

when I lived in Selbysport. Since then he was 

here with us but a good many years ago. 

When he left here, I presented him with such 

articles as he could carry with him for their 

comfort. He was surely welcome and would 

have been to more, but he declined taking 

what I had in fact to force upon him. 

Since that time my circumstances have chan- 

ged so that I have not means to assist 

him at my command, otherwise Brother 

Abraham, they should not suffer. And if I 

could go and attend to them now I would 

go without delay. Well may you say this is 

a serious matter. We owe to Parents debts of gratitude 

we cannot repay. With regard to course of travel 

to their place, I can give you little or 

no information. You are surely aware of the two 

routes by rail, that of Balt. & Ohio and that 

of Pittsburg & Connellsville, or better perhaps by 

water from Pittsburg to Brownsville & then by 

coach to Cumberland. Or you could stop this 

side of Cumberland. Should you or your 

son come in after the old Parents & travel 

by the Balt. & Ohio Rail Rail, you could 

stop at Cranberry Summit 18 miles from 

this place & come here, Or if Boat from 

Pitt. to Brownsville you could stop at _____- 

__________ 12 miles from here & call here. 

I hope you will do so. You say you can 

not well send a constitution (the last) of 

Iowa. I am well aware you would if you 

could accomodate. I inquired of you 

concerning Bro. C. in my last letter. You 

must have forgotten to say something on 

this. Write me very shortly & inform me 

what you are going to do concerning 

the old Parents & when you intend to 

go or send for them and when we ex- 

pect you or your son here to see us 

on your or his way there, inform me al- 

so all you can about Christmas, in each 

particular, and ________ here & intended 

removing to one or the other of the two 

states, which you prefer, yours or Iowa. 

With the best wishes for your prosperity 

and that of your family, 

                           Your Brother 

A.H. Hetherington          I. Hetherington 

Henry and Margaret, the "old parents," were 87 and 65 years old, respectively, when this letter was written, so it's easy to understand the brothers' concern for their well-being. Isaac, in the letter, seemed to acknowledge that he was the logical choice to help Henry and Margaret move, but his reluctance to do so left me wondering how the problem was ultimately resolved.

I've never learned how Henry and Margaret were relocated or who actually tackled the job of moving them, but I was thrilled to find out that both of them were still alive at the time of the 1860 U.S. Census. (A misspelling of their last name had kept that fact hidden from me until last year.)

So where were Henry and Margaret in 1860?  In Southampton Township, Somerset County, Pennsylvania.

And who was the only other person living in the household with them? Why, it was their son Isaac, the shoemaker and former buck-passer.

I love a story with a good ending.

Trinkets and Treasures - No. 1

I'm not a material girl. I don't own expensive things, nor do I have a desire to own them, but there are some things in my home that I really, really like. Some are significant because there's history behind them; some just appeal to me for no particular reason at all.

I was looking at one of the items in the latter category today and it occurred to me that I might be able to turn these things into a regular series of blog posts. After all, the word "trinkets" is featured prominently at the top of my sidebar, so the "trinkets and treasures" theme would fit right in. I worried that it might not be an interesting topic, but look how well Oprah has done with her "favorite things" segments.

Pffft! I'm going for it.

Realizing that this bright idea might turn into a "series" of one, here's that one:

This large bowl on my coffee table is probably about fifteen inches in diameter if you don't measure it right where that notch is. The notch, the little holes, and the jagged edge are all part of what appealed to me, along with the patches and the general rustic appearance (I'm a fool for texture). The bowl is very light in weight and seems to be made out of papier mache or something similar.

I was thrilled when my daughter pointed out this bowl in the hobby store. I thought it would be the perfect thing, filled with pine cones, to add a little touch of the outdoors to the room. And it was, for a long time.

The bowl still sits on the coffee table, but it's empty for now. Levi sure did love the crunch of pine cones.