My grandmother’s house was small, but it never felt lacking. Whatever the situation required, a bandage, a button, a snack, or even a fourth chair, she had it before you could even finish your sentence.
I realized later none of that was luck. Her storage wouldn’t have been set up like that if she had not lived through times when there was no “running to the store,” and every object earned its spot on the shelf.
I have been creating an inventory of her house in my mind for years and years, and over the years my home has acquired the same items. Here are twenty seven of these items, and why she held on to each of them.
The Candy Dish That Never Ran Dry
There was a glass candy dish on the coffee table. It usually had butterscotch or peppermint. It was never really about the candy. The dish was a little signal that guests were expected and welcome at any hour. Nobody left her house without being offered something, and the dish was the first line of that offer.
The Button Tin
Every grandmother kept a tin filled with loose buttons, and each button was unique. When a shirt lost a button, you didn’t throw that shirt away. You went to the tin to replace the missing button. She clipped the buttons off clothes before they became rags. That tin was a collection of decades of shirts and dresses, one button at a time.
The Cookie Tin Full of Sewing Supplies
The blue metal cookie tin was never actually used to pack up cookies. Instead, it housed sewing supplies. Inside you’d find a needle, some thread, thimbles, and a tomato-shaped pincushion. Somehow its ability to trick kids was unmatched. The entire family fell for it eventually. She kept it because there was constant mending and stuffing going on in her house and the supplies needed a home.
A Cast Iron Skillet That Outlived Everything
One black, heavy skillet cooked breakfast, supper, and cornbread for 5 decades. She never soaped it. It never lost its seasoning. Just hot water and stiff scrub brush. And it consistently got better. It was the only pan you could go from stove to oven without thought. It resides on my stove now, and after I go, it will keep right on cooking.
The Percolator That Ran All Day
Coffee did not come in pods in her house, it came from the percolator on the stove. While the coffee burbled all day, anyone who came by got a cup. The coffee pot was always on. The smell from the coffee pot is the smell of her kitchen. Coffee ready is ready for guests. Before this got lost on me, I want to remember the coffee. While other family members left, she stayed, never without coffee, as the percolator patiently burbled.
A Clothesline and a Bag of Pins
She still had the clothesline even after buying a dryer. She line-dried her sheets outside for free sunshine and even better smells than any detergent. A sun-faded and permanent pin bag still remained on the line. She only used the dryer during rainy weeks and called it the lazy line.
The Junk Drawer That Could Fix Anything
One drawer had twine, tape, matches, batteries, screwdrivers, rubber bands and more. It was a complete mess, but she could reach in and grab what was needed to fix the problem. There were probably half the repairs done on that house that started and ended with that drawer. Every organized home has its one messy drawer that is allowed to be useful instead of pretty.
A Bag Full of Other Bags
She kept every bag that had ever entered the house stuffed in her kitchen. Paper bags would line her trash can, wrap her school books, and carry garden vegetables over to the neighbors. Plastic bags would get all twisted and she’d save them by the hundreds. She thought buying a trash bag box would be a waste because she believed she already owned them.
The Jar of Bacon Grease by the Stove
A coffee can sat by the stovetop and each strip of bacon paid rent into it. A spoonful went into the green beans, cornbread, and fried potatoes, and that is why hers always tasted so much better than anyone else’s. Nothing that carried that much flavor was going to be poured down the drain. Chefs would definitely pay money for less flavor than she kept for free.
Vicks VapoRub for Every Ailment
There was a jar of Vicks in the bathroom that helped treat coughs, colds, and sore muscles. It helped with complaints of an indeterminate nature. It had a myriad of uses, and placement of the Vicks was meant to help a multitude of symptoms. Whether it was the menthol or the attention, it always eased the symptoms. Every family had one cure-all, and this was ours.
A Hot Water Bottle Hanging Behind the Door
For cramps and cold beds, she bought a red rubber hot water bottle. At such a low cost she even found it healing without the aid of electricity, cords, or timers. She would put it under the blankets to warm the bed for us before we even got in. It’s still the best low-tech comfort ever made.
The Address Book Written in Pencil
Everyone she ever loved is in one thick little book by the phone. Dated in pencil because life happens. Birthdays and holidays have their places. Christmas card lists are in the back. When she died, there was a lot this book contained that will never be listed in a contact list. The book contained her whole world.
A Wall Calendar Full of Birthdays
The calendar on the side of the kitchen door was the family’s main organizer. Every birthday, anniversary, appointment, and church supper was on it in her handwriting. She never forgot to send a card, and now I know it was not memory doing the work, it was the calendar. One look told you what was important that week.
The Deck of Cards in the Side Table
A worn deck of cards and a cribbage board or dominoes lived in a side table drawer. Playing rummy kept our guests entertained while they did not have to stare at a screen. A plan was made before evening rainy days began, and some of my best conversations took place across those cards.
Doilies on Every Surface
Doilies made everything look nice. They filled all available space: lamp surfaces, vases, candy dishes. Many she had made herself. Doilies gave her furniture protection, which was expected to last forever. Each doily was the result of many hours of work. What is probably seen as fussy is really just a lot of patience.
The Afghan Draped Over the Couch
A crocheted afghan lived permanently in the back of the couch, likely in colors that never did match anything. If someone looked sleepy or cold, it was draped over them without question. There was a blanket made for every wedding and baby and every family couch. Now they are all in circulation and still serve their function.
Aprons on a Hook by the Stove
Putting on an apron was like putting on a seat belt. She automatically put on an apron to save her good dresses, back in a time when a woman owned five good dresses, not fifty. Her apron pockets stored half the things she would need for the day, clothespins, a handkerchief, and more. If she wore the fancy apron, it was time to celebrate because it meant it was a holiday.
A Sewing Basket With Real Work in It
Beyond the button tin, there was the basket of actual mending: hems to take up, socks to darn, seams to close. Clothes were repaired, not replaced. She could turn a collar so a shirt could look new for another year. The basket was never empty for the reason that keeping things going was never finished.
The Flyswatter on Its Nail
One metal handled flyswatter hung on the wall in the kitchen and she was deadly with it. No spray, no zapper. Just razor sharp summer time instincts. It was thirty cent and lasted thirty years. Some problems had a perfect solution long before technology tried to get involved.
An Egg Timer She Actually Used
The little hourglass timed eggs, long-distance calls, and children’s claims that they had brushed their teeth. Long-distance calls cost money. That timer was a referee, sitting beside the phone. Three minutes was three minutes for an egg or a call. She measured things the rest of us just guess at now.
The Bread Box on the Counter
Bread lived in a metal or wooden box on the counter, not in the refrigerator. She claimed the icebox turned bread stale faster. She was right; the cold does just that. The box reserved for bread kept loaves soft and the counter organized. It’s where she kept rolls, which made you constantly check the box.
A Pantry Deep Enough for a Storm
She had a collection of weeks-worth of flour, sugar, dried beans, and her home-canned vegetables on the shelves. That wasn’t hoarding. That was a habit built in the years of uncertain supply. A full pantry meant the bad week would not turn into a bad month for everyone. She took advantage of sale quantities and believed in her savings account as her pantry.
Home-Canned Everything in the Cellar
Rows of mason jars contained tomatoes, beans, peaches, and pickles. Late summer turned her kitchen into a factory of steam and paraffin, and the payoff lasted all winter. It was her love language to give you a jar to put aside for later. The shelf contained a much more thoughtful assortment when compared to any aisle in the store ever.
The Rag Bag That Used to Be Clothes
Nothing made of cotton left her house until it had no more use. Worn shirts and sheets were cut into rags for cleaning, polishing, and skinned knees. She would’ve laughed at the idea of wasting paper towels. The rag bag was the final step in her clothing lifecycle of zero waste.
A Radio That Stayed On
The kitchen radio provided news and music throughout the workday into the evening. It was company to an otherwise monotonous and silent workday. She even knew the names of the announcers. The radio gave the feeling of company and didn’t leave the house feeling empty, even when it was nearly empty.
The Good China Nobody Ate Off
One cabinet contained the wedding china. It was never used and was proudly displayed and dusted. The good china was used on the holidays and by preachers. Everyone else used the everyday set. My grandmother’s generation saved the best for special occasions. I use mine on Tuesdays, but I understand why she saved them.
A Bible With Everything Tucked Inside
Beyond the pages of her Bible were scattered obituaries, dried flowers, school photos, and four-leaf clovers. She kept these mementos within reach of her chair. It was well-worn and used daily. After her passing her family discovered a multitude of bookmarks that told her story. Everyone needs one book that holds their whole life.
