What a cultural revolution, when you think about it: women wearing the pants in many a family these days while the men wear the aprons. A black All-Clad apron as large as a tarp, a denim one imprinted with the name “Emeril,” a heavy red-and-white striped one with deep pockets in which to carry oven mitts or tongs.

Gone are the cotton print aprons with ruffles around the shoulders or the shorter variety that tied at the waistline and fell to mid-thigh. Those aprons our mothers and grandmothers wore, but that was long before gas grills on the back deck. And long before men in their fashionable grill gear cooked entire meals without turning on a stove – placing chops or steaks on the coals, roasting vegetables in a basket on the top tier and melting buttery sauces over a small burner at the side.

My earliest memories were of my mother in an apron, usually one that clashed with her dress in competing colors or patterns and sagged around her hips as she cooked or cleaned or ironed. She regularly carried her pruners in the apron’s pocket so she could snip a rose or sprig of holly as she wandered outside in the backyard after hanging clothes on the line.

I remember my grandmother and her faded aprons that smelled of fried chicken or country ham, which she’d take off only if a neighbor came to call, tossing it on a kitchen chair with one hand while smoothing her white hair with the other.

Women didn’t wear pants back then or socks, for that matter, but always a dress and stockings held up – supposedly – by garters. They also wore hairpins, which secured their top-knots or buns, but were used for a variety of tasks from cleaning their fingernails to unlocking doors, something bobby pins have never accomplished as well.

But it was the ordinary apron with the most versatility, the old-time apron, about which this e-mail story was recently circulated:

The principal use of Grandma’s apron was to protect the dress underneath, but along with that, it served as a potholder for removing hot pans from the oven. It was wonderful for drying children’s tears, and on occasion was even used for cleaning out dirty ears.

From the chicken coop, the apron was used for carrying eggs, fussy chicks and sometimes half-hatched eggs to be finished in the warming oven. When company came, those aprons were ideal hiding places for shy kids. And when the weather was cold, Grandma wrapped it around her arms.

Those big old aprons wiped many a perspiring brow, bent over the hot wood stove. Chips and kindling wood were brought into the kitchen in that apron. From the garden, it carried all sorts of vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the hulls. In the fall, the apron was used to bring in apples that had fallen from the trees.

When unexpected company drove up the road, it was surprising how much furniture that old apron could dust in a matter of seconds. When dinner was ready, Grandma walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields.

Of course, those were the days when Grandma set her hot baked pies on the windowsill to cool. Nowadays, her granddaughters set theirs on the windowsill to thaw. And her modern-day grandsons don a chef’s apron while they conquer the culinary challenges on the patio grill.