Have you ever noticed that when you visit the home of a Southerner, they will tell you the looooong history of everything in their house?  "These fish forks belonged to my Great- Great Aunt Velma's cousin, the one who hand carved her entire dining room set from four walnut trees that fell in her yard during a hurricane."  For some reason, we treasure every small thing from the past. Items that some would normally cast off become instant family treasures that remind us of places and people we love.

My Aunt recently gave me a purse, or rather a "pocketbook", that belonged to my Grandmother.  It's brown leather with an alligator inlay and looks like something Jackie Kennedy would have carried.  It  smells like a Grandmother with hints of Juicy Fruit combined with some sort of Avon product.

But even better than the soft fragrance is a, "Hello My Name Is" sticky tag, stuck to the cream colored lining. And even more interesting, on that tag is not her first name, "Stella", or even "Mrs. McKey." Instead, she had written in blue ink, "Mrs. Sherman McKey" the proper, formal name of my Grandfather.


Actually, I can only think of a few times today we still refer to ladies with their formal husband's name. When addressing a formal letter or card, and on the "Contributors" page in the back of the Junior League Cookbook. 

When I first received the bag, I searched the pockets and corners, not really knowing what I was hoping to find. Maybe a small note or grocery list, or perhaps a metal hairpin had jiggled down deep into the lining. But nothing besides the name tag remained.

Long ago, I remember the pocketbook contained more than gum, which by the way, I never saw Grandmother chew. Her stylish pocketbook, probably purchased when she was adventurous and traveled to Mexico, held practical things like a pen embossed with the name of the feed store (where she bought her flower seeds), a coin purse, metal nail file, safety pins, rain bonnet, receipt from Penn's Hamburgers, address book and notepad, and of course, a clean and pressed handkerchief. 

I adore carrying Grandmother's classic pocketbook.  And before I slip my iPhone in, I always poke my face down in the lining, next to her handwritten formal name tag, and inhale deeply.

Hoping the scent of Juicy Fruit hasn't faded.
 
Hope blogs about her little corner of Alabama over at www.fairhopesupply.com and invites you to visit and learn more about the quirky town she calls home.
 
 

Views: 74

Tags: lifestyle, other, parenting&family

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Comment by Emily Laborde Hines on September 12, 2012 at 4:31pm

Great story!  Made me think of grandmother as well and her pocketbook full of werther's butterscotch candy and lemon drops.

Comment by whitney long on September 11, 2012 at 9:54pm

What a sweet story and what a priceless gift of your grandmother's purse and the memories associated with it.  When I read it, I teared up because it reminded me so much of my grandmother who always, always, always had Juicy Fruit in her purse for us grandchildren and then her great-grandchildren.  I will never smell it and not think of her!

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