Ardeana Hamlin’s By Hand column (Aug. 23, 2005) about aprons inspired Orella Chandler of Milford to share her memories.

I remember growing up on French Island where all mothers and grandmothers wore aprons.

My grandmother Collins was usually first out of bed and didn’t appear until she had put on a clean housedress and shiny black lace-up shoes, and had combed her white hair into a neat bun. A crisp apron topped her dress.

None of her aprons were wash-and-wear. They were made of what we today call “1930s fabric” – most likely the era when she made the aprons.

My grandmother’s aprons were not for show, they were utilitarian. When she went to the garden to pick vegetables or to our chokecherry tree to pick berries, her apron replaced a basket or a pail. She gathered it in front of her, forming a sack, and the pick of the day was carried home that way.

Her aprons always had at least one pocket, preferably two, one which contained a handkerchief – never a tissue – at the ready to wipe a runny nose, tear-stained cheeks or the dirt from a [child’s] chubby pink face.

Her aprons were not fancy, but each was trimmed with bias binding or decorated with a little rickrack. Each one was washed every Monday, hung out to dry and ironed on Tuesday.

When I was old enough, I learned to iron – starting with pillowcases, table runners and tablecloths – all flat items. Then I was ready to graduate to ironing aprons – mostly flat but with curves and ties to complicate the process.

These memories had been safely stored away until recently when I found myself wishing I had an apron while helping my granddaughter pick up some small toys at bedtime. How easy it would have been to scoop them up into an apron.

Thanks for allowing me a bit of nostalgia time. Sometimes we need to be reminded of the simple things of everyday life.