There are a lot of “Family Linens” in my house—mainly table linens, but plenty of pillowcases, hand towels, and bedspreads too.
While I don’t know each piece’s story, nearly everything came from my mother’s side. I need help telling which are family handwork and which are store-bought.
Years ago, I came across advice that has stayed with me:
The best place to work on your family tree is not your computer.
It is with your oldest living relative.
As a result, I pushed my chair back and walked up the hill to my parent’s house. I sat on the porch and talked with my 87-year-old mom about the linens.
Luckily my mom is happy to roll with me and whatever my current interest is. She hardly raises an eyebrow if I say “about the Kansas years…” or, in this case, “Can you tell me again about the family linens?” She retold what she could remember and started with the old spinning wheel.
Our old Saxony spinning wheel came from her father’s side, the Gwinn family, who had a farm in Alderson, West Virginia. Mom shared details this time about the sheep and the outbuilding where the animals lived. Meanwhile, it never dawned on me that women in the family had spun sheep’s wool into yarn.
The wheel had always been an artifact on display in our house, but now I can touch the worn wood and imagine their hands.
Mom told me that her father’s sister, great-aunt Minnie had beautiful linens handed down to her mother because Minnie never had any children. Her collection was store-bought finery; however, Minnie’s sister, great-aunt Allie, handmade the crochet blanket I have on the back of my couch. I never knew it was Allie until Mom and I chatted this time. I assumed my grandmother made it; she crocheted often when I was a child.
Grandmotherteen (her first name was Christine) made all four of us “pixie boots” every Christmas. These booties were a source of endless entertainment; not only could we slide/skate on the wood floors, but they were guaranteed to transmit an electric shock to an unsuspecting sibling when you scooted your feet over a rug. When my older sister and brother outgrew receiving booties for Christmas, she made matching booties for my younger sister and me to put on our dolls.
Mom said my grandmother learned to crochet after we were born.
This same grandmother had a bridge club that met once a week for decades, and they took turns hosting the players at each house. She had special card-table linens fixed so you could tie them to each leg of the table. That way, they could play outside on the lawn without the wind tossing everything into the air.
Mom pointed out that her mother was not the one laundering and pressing all that linen- she had a housekeeper. When she and my dad married in 1959, they received piles of linens “because that was something you always received when you got married.” However, my mom seldom used them; she worked outside our home and returned to school for a Master of Divinity degree when the four of us were old enough.
Lady’s luncheons were not a priority.
One of our older pieces, likely from the early 1920s, is a crochet bedspread my great-grandmother made for my grandmother. Mom said that she made one for each of her nine daughters and that none of them used them as a bedspread. Each daughter displayed the lovely handwork as a tablecloth instead.
In 2021, while frantically unpacking as guests arrived to see my new house, I realized I had no curtains for any of the bedrooms. My son’s high school sweetheart suggested using beautiful old hand towels and pillowcases with a tension rod and clips. Genius.
What a practical way to show off vintage family linens.
I told Mom I had pulled everything out and covered my bed with the piles. She promised to come down the hill to my house and have another look at all of it. I’ll be ready and listening if touching something sparks a memory.
Additional Resource: This organization will help you with unfinished handwork by connecting you with someone who will finish it. Loose Ends.
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