Hope Chest
Sikora’s Furniture Store on Cermak Road in Cicero, Illinois gave high school girls a cedar mini-hope chest upon their graduation. In 1968 it was considered ridiculous to have a hope chest. But I thought, free is free, so I walked into the store and claimed the little box and the employees’ accompanying good wishes. I felt I had earned it. After all I survived the many miseries of Morton East High School! It’s the least I deserved.
Mine still sits next to the bed with a treasure trove of random keepsakes tucked neatly inside. Photos of my grandparents, my grandmother’s Czech bible, though I can’t read a word of it, death announcements for my grandmother, mother, aunts, and others who are beloved but departed, the first note my husband ever wrote before we started dating, a keychain with my daughter’s birth picture attached, live happily. Granted, the idea of a hope chest seemed archaic because women’s liberation had dawned. Admittedly now, it’s outdated. Who even knows what a hope chest is? Though a radical feminist, I loved it then and I love it now! I called it my promise box. Today it is my memory box. In days to come it will be called my “in case of unplanned departure” box, but not eminently, I hope.
Inside I’ve added envelopes for each family member, filled with cash and happy notes wishing them well. Photos of our wonderful times spent together through the years are included. Instructions for a life well-lived and an explanation of the mini chest have been detailed. Small mementos are also part of each gift.
I never had nor wanted the traditional hope chest at the foot of the marital bed filled with linens and doilies from former relatives. It wasn’t what women of my era deemed relevant. But the memories still generated by the fragrance of cedar, every time I open the little box, blanket me with love and remembrance of bygone days and the promises youth foretells.
Perhaps the “unplanned departure box” will be appreciated by my existing progeny and those who come after them. I know the cash will. But ideally the old “free” cedar chest with its unique history will continue to spark joy for future generations.
— Mugsy
Sikora’s Furniture Store on Cermak Road in Cicero, Illinois gave high school girls a cedar mini-hope chest upon their graduation. In 1968 it was considered ridiculous to have a hope chest. But I thought, free is free, so I walked into the store and claimed the little box and the employees’ accompanying good wishes. I felt I had earned it. After all I survived the many miseries of Morton East High School! It’s the least I deserved.
Mine still sits next to the bed with a treasure trove of random keepsakes tucked neatly inside. Photos of my grandparents, my grandmother’s Czech bible, though I can’t read a word of it, death announcements for my grandmother, mother, aunts, and others who are beloved but departed, the first note my husband ever wrote before we started dating, a keychain with my daughter’s birth picture attached, live happily. Granted, the idea of a hope chest seemed archaic because women’s liberation had dawned. Admittedly now, it’s outdated. Who even knows what a hope chest is? Though a radical feminist, I loved it then and I love it now! I called it my promise box. Today it is my memory box. In days to come it will be called my “in case of unplanned departure” box, but not eminently, I hope.
Inside I’ve added envelopes for each family member, filled with cash and happy notes wishing them well. Photos of our wonderful times spent together through the years are included. Instructions for a life well-lived and an explanation of the mini chest have been detailed. Small mementos are also part of each gift.
I never had nor wanted the traditional hope chest at the foot of the marital bed filled with linens and doilies from former relatives. It wasn’t what women of my era deemed relevant. But the memories still generated by the fragrance of cedar, every time I open the little box, blanket me with love and remembrance of bygone days and the promises youth foretells.
Perhaps the “unplanned departure box” will be appreciated by my existing progeny and those who come after them. I know the cash will. But ideally the old “free” cedar chest with its unique history will continue to spark joy for future generations.
— Mugsy
What a good idea. My chest is full of ski sweaters that no longer fit. I think I will follow your lead to make it a memory box. Opelikakat
ReplyDeleteLovely. Hope chest/treasure chest. Memories as treasures. Nicely done
ReplyDeleteYes, this is lovely. We need these important memories to keep ourselves grounded. My step-father was Czech and lived with the Cermak family in South Chicago. Kolaches for all.
ReplyDeletePoppyseed all around!
DeleteWondering if this is (flash) fiction. I'm thinking maybe not? So personal and detailed. Also, very idealized. Even though the old-fashioned "Hope" Chest idea is not relevant, you've fashioned a NEW idea. Very sweet! ----Macoff
ReplyDelete