One morning last week, I sat in the lobby of a downtown hotel watching an extended family who had come to town for a wedding. All the ladies of a certain age were wearing fur coats. Some of them full-length. I became acutely aware there is a whole other world I’ll never visit. And that’s okay. Except for this one thing: I once had a fur coat.
It belonged to my grandmother, who received it from my Aunt Anice. She wasn’t a blood relative. We called all the older ladies in our church “Aunt Whoever.” I miss that.
Anyway, Aunt Anice had moved to Kansas City years before, but she sometimes boarded a bus and rode four hours north to our tiny berg. Just to attend church with us. She wore rouge, smelled delicious, and seemed rather queenly to me. One year, she gave my grandmother a hand-me-down fur coat.
My grandmother never had occasion to wear the coat since she was the wife of a country preacher. So, when my husband was in medical school and we were trying to feed four children, she sacrificed it. Vintage clothing had become the rage about then, and a resale shop in our town paid good money for such things. I needed a winter coat, so Grandma gave me the fur to sell. I took the money to J.C. Penney and bought something sensible.
I wish I hadn’t. I wish I’d gone to the Salvation Army and gotten a second-hand parka and kept the fur in the family. I’ve never had occasion to wear a fur anymore than my grandmother did. But I might. Someday.
Sitting in that lobby, watching the ladies off to a wedding in their finery, I was reminded that the expedient answer is not always the best.
You don’t need to feel sorry for me. Heaven knows I have much nicer things than fur coats in my life. But, the next time I have to choose between the thrift shop and the fur, I’m keeping the fur!
I think I sort of remember that fur. Do you think that’s possible? And I see your point, but of course the organization people would say you made the right choice because you still have the memory but nothing to keep in storage. : )
Yes, I’m sure you remember it, Felic. You would have been around eight at the time. And the traveling-light point is a good one. I am trying to embrace that.
It sounds familiar to me, too. I know exactly how you feel. I want fewer things, but I want the few things I have to be really cool. I can get behind the idea, though, that maybe just the right person bought it, and they’re still enjoying it today.
Oh, that is a happy thought!
The coat may be in someone else’s family now, but you have a great story to pass down! I am somewhat fascinated by the stories of things. Maybe it’s because I don’t have that older generation around these days to tell me the history of different items. Maybe it’s because I know the story of a few things and that makes me wonder about the rest. I know it does make me want to somehow attach the stories to the items that are important to me now so my kids and their kids will know those stories also. Just looking around my desk now I see at least three things that would get put in a junk box at an auction but have a significant story behind why they are on my desk.
I imagine a very Elmer-esque story for your fur. Just after you left it at the resale shop, some lady came in and it fit her perfectly. She had stopped by the shop on a whim because she needed something “fancy” but had never hoped in a million years to actually find what she was hoping for. That fur coat helped her to feel confident and beautiful for the event she had been invited to, but didn’t feel she was worthy to attend. And now she also has a story to pass down through the generations. At least in my imagination. 🙂
Sometimes we need pretty things, just … because. I still have a silver nut dish that belonged to my grandmother. I never use it, but every Christmas – I get it out and just remember all the sweet times with family.
I love that, RJ.
My mother has a fur cape, passed on to her from her mother. It’s a short cape, which strikes me as an unusual shape. I’ve never seen it outside the front hall closet. With two sisters, I have a one-in-three chance of inheriting it. Taking a lesson from your life, I won’t turn it down, either!
I say go pin your name on it, Jane! 🙂