I was the luckiest of grandchildren. I lived across the street from my maternal grandparents and moved between these two homes with an easy flow. As a free ranging child of the 50s, my neighborhood friends and I were just as likely to be found resting in the cool shade of the pines on the west side of their lot, as playing kickball in the cinder alley on my side of the street or roller skating the concrete sidewalk ringing our block. If Grandma was in the kitchen – baking oatmeal cookies, cooking supper, making Ribbli (a uniquely Swiss breakfast dish) – she always wore an apron.

Over the years, I have collected a half-dozen bib aprons but I tend to grab one only when I start a multiple recipe day of cooking and baking; an act that signifies, this is serious work. Among my friends, even those who declare themselves to be “foodistas”, I rarely, if ever, see any of them wearing an apron. This may be due to the sheer abundance of stain resistant clothing in our closets or that we came of age in the 70s when we were eager to cast off any connection to the apron clad images that were broadcast to our black-and-white 15-inch TVs. I am remembering comedic scenes with Ethel and Lucy in “I Love Lucy” or Aunt Bea on “The Andy Griffith Show” when an apron was a standard costume accessory.

For over 50 years, Grandma’s well used half aprons were kept neatly washed, pressed and protected in tissue paper.  Each sewn with fabric remnants and embellished with a bit of lace or a row of rickrack.  As Momma continues her shelf-by-shelf, drawer-by-drawer review of her household items, she felt it was time to share these vintage treasures. Granddaughters Barb, Rita, Sarah, Gina, Mary Pat, Rebecca, and I are now the keepers of these wonderful heirlooms.