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 Family memories inside the linen closet

So much family history in a linen closet.

Like C.S. Lewis’s ‘The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe’, my linen closet invites you to step through it and journey through another time and space.  It is evocative.  It speaks to me of family history, lineage and memories -- both happy and sad.  Growing up, bed and table linens were important parts of my life and could always be counted on to appear at the perfect moment, in perfect condition.  

I still have all of the beautiful linens handed down to me, when my mother passed, and they include all those given her by her own mother and grandmother.  They are lovingly stored in the linen closet and taken out to grace both festive and ordinary tables, depending upon the occasion.  They are an integral part of our family and treated with respect and care.  Afterall, they were important parts of several young brides’ trousseaus.

Some of these linens go back to the early eighteen hundreds, when my great-great grandparents immigrated to Canada from England, where they had been part of the landed gentry, or Whigs.  The older, more fragile linens I have wrapped in tissue paper to preserve them, but I still call upon them to enhance a family gathering or spruce up an ordinary table.  Sometimes I wonder why I keep them?  Why not give them to an auctioneer for others to enjoy, because I doubt my own children will bother, given the care they demand.

My antique table lines include hand-embroidered cloths, with scores of islets each bordered with care by hand.  They also include small napkins for tea party sandwiches and cocktail canapés, as well as large dinner napkins.  Each has a distinct purpose and each requires careful laundering and ironing.  They harken back to a more elegant era, when housewives took great pride in the laying of their table because a matron’s table was a reflection of her status and station.  Even without a lot of money, or an expensive dinner to share, a wives' table linens elevated any meal.

The mystery to me is how those wives and mothers of yesteryear managed to care for their treasures?  Back then, there were no dishwashers, no dryers, no automatic hot water and no automatic laundry machines.  Everything was done by hand, yet they still found time to lovingly create and look after their linens.  

Looking through them the other day, I came across that familiar napkin with the ancient yellow stain, which I have never been able to remove.  This was the napkin that lined the breadbasket and onto which melted butter, the result of buns buttered and piping hot from the oven would ooze onto the napkin.  Heaven help you if you served unbuttered, cold buns!  I still use that napkin for the same purpose.

Christmas linens were particularly ornate.  I remember the large family gatherings, when they were unwrapped to adorn the table.  To those affairs, my ancient great-aunt would always be invited.  A strict teetotaler, Aunt May would scowl at any hint of liquor being served, so my father and uncles would sneak out to the back sunroom and out-of-sight for a little nip or two.  Even tea or coffee posed a significant risk if served.  “Would you like me to wave the teabag over your cup of hot water?” one of my more daring uncles would ask her.  Quite deaf, Aunt May always answered, “Yes, dear.”  As children, we found this uproarious.  By the way, an observant Presbyterian, she didn’t allow dancing either, so these dinners were pretty staid affairs.

When I married, my husband and I scoured country estate auctions, where treasure troves of linens and blankets could be found.  Sometimes, you bid on a lot, or a box, that might contain a lot of junk.  But it might also contain beautiful linens – such as thick, cotton pillowcases with lace borders, or wool blankets not to be found anywhere any longer.  Some of the blankets I have are so old they were woven on narrow looms and had to be joined together to cover a full bed.

Today, whenever I or my daughter entertain family for Thanksgiving or Christmas, my linens are taken out and when the table is laid, I can sense my mother and grandmother seated with us, happy to be included through their hand-worked linens.

Lots of things have been discarded over the years, but not my family linens.  They endure and always give a place at the table for our loved absent ones.