I don’t reckon our kids know the purpose of an apron. But I know that throughout history, the apron has been absolutely necessary.
The primary use of Grandmother’s apron was to cover and protect the garment underneath as she only had a few dresses - sometimes only one or two. It was easier to launder aprons than a dress and they required far less fabric. Plus, in Grandmother’s day, all cotton fabrics had to be pressed, and every garment was sewn from cotton! Many dresses had pleats and lace, which were toilsome and slow to press but since aprons were a more simple garment, they were quick and simple to make presentable.
In addition to the apron’s intent to shield clothes worn underneath, the apron also served as a handy potholder for removing hot pie pans from the oven. It was always handy for drying a child’s tears, and occasionally was even used for cleaning out a child’s dirty ears. In the chicken coop, the apron was used for toting eggs, finicky chicks, and occasionally half-hatched eggs to finish hatching in the bread warming oven. If a cock got a bit too assertive, an exuberant flap or two of the apron proved to be a quick and easy way to shoo that rooster off.
When company came calling, those indispensable aprons were excellent concealing places for bashful kids, and a fast change to a new apron served as a complete wardrobe change, just for visitors. When surprise visitors drove up the road, it was surprising how many tabletops and windowledges that useful old apron could dust off in a matter of seconds. And an apron was just perfect for wiping a smudge off a window pane, or for clearing a spot in the frost to peer out on a chilly wintertime morning.
And when the wind grew bitter, Grandmother draped her apron over her shoulders. When it rained, it protected her head, or the sweet face of a newborn infant child. Chips and firewood were carried into Grandmother’s kitchen in that apron. And those big old aprons swabbed many a sweaty brow, bent over a steaming soup pot, or looking up at a warm summer moon.
In the garden, it carried all sorts of herbs and vegetables. After the peas had been shelled, it carried out the pods. When she weeded the garden, it transported the limp weeds to the pigpen. In autumn, the apron was on hand to bring in those ripe apples that had fallen from the trees. When dinnertime came, Grandmother just walked out onto the porch, waved her apron, and the men knew it was time to come in from the fields to dinner.
People now would shake their heads trying to calculate how many germs were on Grandmother’s apron. But you know what? I never caught a thing from an apron. But Grandma’s apron sure meant comfort to me.
