My mother owned three cedar chests. The first was built by her father from solid cedar wood, plain but beautiful in it’s simple lines and glossy finish. Meant as a hope chest, in those days, intended for young women to store linens, “fancy work” and other things for their someday marriages. She kept it filled all summer with winter woolens to protect them from moths. The second, an elaborately carved work of art, had been a gift from my dad during the early years of their marriage. It had contained a series of hand-knitted baby clothes, toddler’s winter snowsuits and bonnets, winter scarves and mittens, and handmade sweaters and lap-robes during off-seasons. It also, along with the most recent chest, hid uncounted Christmas and birthday gifts until the appropriate day arrived. The latest chest was part of a new, many-pieced set of bedroom furniture. It, as was the hand-carved chest, was simply lined with a layer of cedar wood which seemed to be as effective at preventing moth damage as the one my grandfather had made.
At about the middle of August, various cedar-scented garments would emerge from their hiding places for an extended airing on the screened porch and subsequent “fashion show” that allowed Mother to assess each garment for fit, necessary alterations, age appropriateness and degree of acceptance by its possible new owner. School would soon be starting and, with four daughters to clothe, she needed to know how much shopping, sewing and repairing she faced. Raincoats, winter boots and snow pants required assessment too, and there would be new shoes and gym uniforms required as well as the lists of school supplies. On a summer day, the transition from cotton sundresses and summer play clothes to wool skirts and heavy winter coats was an agony difficult to bear.
Within a few days of Mother’s thinly disguised “fashion show” came a much more enjoyable venture – shopping! The new brown leather oxfords and white tennis shoes were available at the Brown Shoe Fit store in town where they had a fascinating X-ray machine that let us see right through the shoes to our toe bones, and for Mother to see for herself just how much growing room there was and assure her that we would not outgrow the shoes before the end of the school year. At home, we had to try on the rubber overshoes to be sure they would slide over the new shoes and protect them from winter snow and spring rain. We were encouraged to “break in” the stiff leather shoes by wearing them (in the house only) daily for an hour or so to prevent blisters after a summer of bare feet and sandals. Unfortunately, since walking short distances in the house was not the same as the six-block trek to school and back, it didn’t help much.
The best part of the shopping took part in the Sears and Roebuck and Montgomery Ward stores in Oskaloosa, about 25 miles from home. We tried on dresses, blouses, sweaters and skirts while Mother took note of our preferences, the practicality, wash-ability and appropriateness of each garment. She actually purchased few of our choices, but being a fine and speedy seamstress, she bought patterns, fabrics, zippers, buttons and ready-made trim to reproduce most of our favorites. We shopped for new underwear and stockings and then a few bonus items such as belts, silky scarves, hair ribbons and costume jewelry. Back home, we rearranged dresser drawers to make room for the new underwear, modeled our favorite new garments for Dad’s admiration and began looking forward to the first day of school when we would, at last, get to wear our favorite new dress, skirt or blouse “for real.”
A trip to Kresge’s five and dime or the Ben Franklin Store there in our own town would provide all the items on our list of required school supplies. Every year there would be some new thing added to make us curious and impatient to find out what we would be using it for. A bottle of ink and dip-pen for our first foray into The Palmer Method of Penmanship (third grade), compass and protractor for the mysteries of geometry (junior high).
It was always hard to wait for school to start.