Laughter, Lessons, and Dishtowels Found in a China Cabinet by Pennie Hunt

My mom was having her kitchen remodeled and I was helping her box up her dishes and small appliances in preparation for the contractors. I opened the door to the bottom of the china cabinet. It was full of never used dishtowels. I began pulling them out and stacking them on the floor next to me.

                    “Mom, why are you keeping all these towels?
                    The tags are still on them. Why haven’t you used them?”

Her response was four words, “Martin gave them to me.”

My brother, Martin, was always mom’s golden child. He was the only boy nestled between me and my sister. In our sisterly opinions, he was mom’s favorite. She always took his side and she spoiled him. 

I began laughing.
“You are saving them because Martin gave them to you?”
Again, she had a short answer, “Yes.”

I sat back against the wall. I was circled by towels.

“Mom let me share something with you. For all the years since Martin graduated from college and moved away, he has sent me money to do his gift shopping. I have purchased your Birthday, Mother’s Day, and Christmas gifts for him. I have wrapped them and given them to you with tags that say from Martin. He probably doesn’t remember what most of the gifts were. Whenever I had a few dollars left I used it to buy you dish towels from him because yours always looked worn out. Martin would not even know these are from him.”

I couldn’t stop laughing at the thought of her using the old worn-out dishtowels while all these new ones were tucked in the china cabinet. She looked at me in disbelief. In her mind my brother had thoughtfully picked out each towel specifically for her. She loved him for that and she had attached that love to each square of terrycloth fabric. She had carefully placed each new towel (and the emotions it carried) in the cabinet to be kept safely with the others.

How many times have we connected feelings and emotions to things or places? We all do this. I am a sentimental person. I have the original recipe for oatmeal cookies that my grandmother wrote on a piece of lined paper. The paper is yellow and worn after decades of unfolding it to make those special cookies. I have attached my memories of her to the recipe, her cursive writing, and the taste of those cookies.

I also have my dad’s hat and tubs of my son’s things. These items bring me true memories and warm my heart. I believe these emotions are reasonable and rational.

This can work in a negative way too. I was in a hotel when I received the call that my son had passed. I associate that hotel with pain, tragedy and the death of my son. For years I could not drive down the street where the hotel was located. The thought of ever staying there again gives me a visceral reaction. I hate that hotel.

Did the hotel have anything to do with my son’s death? No. Is it logical for me to attach such hatred to a building? Probably not.

After I stopped laughing and my mom stopped giving me her, mom look, for making fun of her, for once again favoring my brother- we packed all the towels and her feelings into a box. I reinforced that my brother had never seen these towels or knew about them. That in fact I was the one who picked them out with her in mind.

I told her that she should put them to good use in her newly remodeled kitchen.
She agreed that if they weren’t from Martin she didn’t need to save them and would use them in the new kitchen. I silently laughed inside at her thought process that because I had picked each one out for her was not a reason to keep them as a special possession.
Did I mention my brother was her favorite child?
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                                                     Pennie’s Life Lesson:
                         Be careful what you attach emotions and feelings to.
                                           Make sure it is for the right reason. 
                                               ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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YOUR TURN...        
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