FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH

CONTINUING YESTERDAY'S DISCUSSION OF OLD LINENS AND OTHER TREASURES:

REPLY TO MISS MERRY, OF THE CEDAR CHESTS AND HOPEFUL SWEETHEARTS WHO FILLED THEM:

Yes, those rough-handed guys who took SHOP while we took Home Ec---they made those lovely shining cedar chests----some from a tree they'd cut themselves on the PLACE, taken to the sawmill right there down the bayou, and cured before the making of those Hope Chests for a special Girl. They were the men who married that One Girl for whom they'd cleaned up nice on Saturday nights to take to the Picture Show, driving up and knocking on her front door to escort her to the car, and home safely after a Doris Day/Rock Hudson and Frozen Root Beer at the Dairy Bar. They walked in the sweet aroma from the one bottle of Old Spice shared amongst the brothers, but their own VITALIS, and then sat up in the Church Balcony with their girl on Sunday mornings.

And SHE---that beloved sweetheart from sixth grade on, probably filled that chest with help of Mama and Aunts and two talented Grandmas, and used those precious items long as they lived. I look back at my Decade, knowing my own MOTHER did all her stitching and crochet and sewing and homework by Coal Oil Lamps until she was a Senior, and current came to the county.

REPLY TO VIRGINIA, OF HER OWN LOVE AND PRESERVATION OF THE LOVELY ARTIFACTS:

An ad for Estee Lauder popped up several months ago, as everything-and-your-lunch seems to do nowadays, and I ordered a bottle, just because. Chris and I were very fortunate that all four of our parents spent the last days and moments at home, after fifty-plus years of living in the family home. And the house of my Raisin' was a three-roof house, with another two rooms added on twice at about fifteen-year intervals over their marriage.

The final hump across the silhouette spanned from their bedroom down into a step-down DEN, with an eight-foot little corridor whose sides were made of Mother's closets on one side, and a marble dressing table and mirrors on the other. And they were of the age of The Deeper the Carpet . . . so I just mentioned to Leah the other day that stepping onto her own cushy bathroom rugs, all warm from the furnace, and smelling the scent of that Estee Lauder on my sweater---deja vu to many a comfortable stroll in my socks in that warm, fragrant house of my childhood.

I LOVE that you honor your STUFF---those one-of-a-kind creations from hands long stilled, and that you've passed on that love of our past artistes' talents to your next generation. Chris teased me that he knew I don't wear jewelry and haven't a care for fashion, so he knew every time he presented me with a necklace or pretty brooch he'd found a Goodwill or a pawn shop, he'd say, "Will this go on a lampshade or a curtain valance?" I like my sparkles out there where I can see them, not on me.

And I believe in USE THAT GOOD STUFF!! (says I who made both parents JUMP at breakfast on one of my last visits, by bringing that suede-lined drawer of gorgeous Michelangelo flatware from the dining room and dumping it headlong into the one I'd just emptied of all the old stray forks and spoons that had limped along for decades, and saying "What are you saving this FOR?")

AND A REPLY TO NANA DIANA, WHOSE IMPISH AND SWEET HUMOR IS A MIRROR IMAGE OF MY OWN, AND SHE WISHED ME WELL ON FRIDAY THE 13TH:

I KNOW you do, Sweetpea!!! How can we not, with snarky imaginations like ours?? A couple come into IHop and sit shoulder-to-shoulder on one side of the booth---You KNOW they came in separate cars, and live WAY on the other side of town.

We were Lady Pepperell Percale only, all my life----pronounced in our area Per-CAL like California. I ironed all the pillowslips, so careful of the inches of crochet (variegated usually, to match the little fancy stitching of little arrowheads-in-a-line or ovals or that tulip shape that kids draw for flowers---that was done a few inches from the hem by a smart little doohickey attached to the presser-foot on the Singer). OH, were THOSE fancy, and a bride who got a pair of THOSE from Mrs. B---they were forever.

Just by chance, we lived for a year in the Home of Pepperell---over in Alabama on the Georgia line at the Chattahoochee, and sale weekends at the Mill Outlet Stores brought in Crowds like the Ole Miss-State game. They'd crowd all the fast food places in town, sometimes parking all the way over on our little street, and line up outside stores EARLY, those two-or-four-ladies-to-a-car, sometimes from states away for a shopping weekend with all those values. They'd search the wares in the "Seconds" store with little magnifying lenses in one eye like a diamond merchant, and haul out stacks and stacks enough of bedlinens to befit the Princess with the Pea.

Thank you!!! Friday 13th was a GORGEOUS DAY---clouds at wakeup, then bright sun and a Lion Pride's worth of WIND as I went into the store, and threatened to blow my immense pack of Bounty towels off the buggy and across the parking lot when I came out. Two of those fabulous rotisserie chickens (Better even than Sam's)---some for lunch with leftover pea salad and Watergate , and for Leah to debone for the freezer. Lunch on trays in the sunny-washed sitting room, and new episodes of Matlock and Elspeth, lots of texts and pictures from our girls touring Ireland, and some put-aways and til-next-years of decor, then the day ended perfumed with the three hours bone-broth simmering til bedtime. If I'd had a hat, the wind would have done the "turning around" for Luck. Lovely March Day.