Celebration: Apron Strings

By Jean Headrich

My friends like to give me a hard time; calling me June Cleaver and such. I don’t know what got them started. Maybe it was the day I ran outside to the mailbox wearing it. Maybe it was kissing my husband goodbye for work through the car window with it tied around my waist. Maybe it was answering the door in it when they ran over to borrow a cup a sugar. But whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter. I am proud to wear it. It, of course, is my apron.

I have worn an apron ever since I can remember and plan to pass the tradition down to my two daughters. My first apron was handmade by my mother. She actually made matching aprons for my sister and I out of printed red and blue cotton. They tied at the waist and we wore them proudly as ‘little helpers.’ They were a status symbol in a way because wearing them gave us clearance into the kitchen. Today, I wear an apron for two reasons. First, I am a very practical person. I simply don’t want my clothes splashed with tomato sauce or dusted with flour. In fact, I feel incomplete if I don’t have one on while cooking. The second reason is far more important to me than keeping my clothes clean. It has to do with what an apron symbolizes.

To me, an apron symbolizes tradition: the tradition of cooking and baking, the tradition of gathering for a meal in which the day’s events are shared, the tradition of a mother being home to lovingly welcome and nourish her family. Call me old-fashioned, but in our hurried lives of fast food and store-bought treats, it feels good and right to don an apron and create something special. It’s more than just what comes out of the oven; it’s the idea of home, family, and love. Go ahead, put on an apron and be transported back to a slower, more traditional time when part of the day could be spent honoring family values. It’s okay if your fiends give you a hard time. June Cleaver had a good thing going.