30 Years In The Bag

This post was originally published in 2013.

I recently came into possession of my dear departed grandmother's cedar chest. Grandma (or 'grammaw' as we say in Texas) Veda passed away thirty years ago - wow, how can that be?? - and her cedar chest has been stored in the crawl space under my parents' home ever since. They downsized and asked me if I wanted it. I honestly had no memory of said chest, but it was obvious my folks felt it should stay in the family. No one local in the family wanted it, so I drove a thousand miles one-way to rescue it and bring it home with me.

The chest is nothing special from a decorative sense. It's a classic Lane model in a dark finish. The cedar lining has long since lost the battle with musty. I was told to sand the cedar to revive its scents-o-riffic powers, but this is an olfactory pipe dream. Febreze made a brave attempt, but musty it will remain.

The chest's main purpose in my house now is to serve as an intermediate level between floor and bed to help my aging Lab hop into bed with us every night. And yes, I have it covered to protect its lid from further injury from her doggy toenails.

So the chest in and of itself is nothing special furniture-wise. But it contained an interesting piece of my grandmother's life: one of her old purses; probably the last purse she ever used. Now this was something I could relate to! Like many grandmas before her, Granny Veda was infamous for her large purse. But she was a large woman, near 6 feet tall and flirting with 200 pounds from middle age forward, of sturdy Norwegian stock (a few generations back, but the genes run strong in her line), so she would look funny with a small purse!

It was jarring coming upon this purse, lying abandoned in the chest for so many years. First weird thing was the image of my dad discovering it, walking toward me awkwardly holding it at arm's length as if it were a three-day-old carp. I guess men of a certain generation still avoid being seen in contact with a woman's purse. What - do they really think we are going to think it is theirs? And of course this would mean they are gay. Very silly. Reminds me of the time the hubs and I were at some event and I asked him to watch my purse for me when I went to the restroom. I actually had to lay it at his feet, as he would not deign to touch it in public.

But I digress.

Second weird thing was its actual size. It was just an average size purse, nowhere near the Mary Poppins-size carpet bag I always envision when I think of granny purses. In fact, I have more than one purse that is substantially larger, so I am feeling some purse shame about that. Veda's was a bone colored vinyl handbag, the kind usually seen dangling from the crook of an elbow. Judging from its size compared to its contents, it is possible other contents had already been removed. For example, there was no wallet. Very fishy! Anyway, its remaining contents were every bit as 'Granny Veda' as I remembered and not a bit weird. They were as follows:

• plastic sleeve containing several wallet-sized photos of various relatives including one of my dad (her son), one of his brother (also her son), one of my cousin (her other granddaughter), TWO of my brother (her only grandson), and exactly NONE of me 🙁 
• small cosmetic bag containing pressed powder (Avon 'Honey'),  rouge (Westmore 'Jarol') and lipstick (Avon 'Coral'). What the heck is a 'Jarol'????
• comb - a long, sturdy plastic number the likes of which are seldom seen now. And btw how many women carry COMBS in their purses anymore??
• eyeglasses case including pearl inlay cat-eye eyeglasses - pretty cool!
• #3 pencil - not a pen, a PENCIL. Not a #2, a #3. And Granny Veda was a school teacher back in the day, so she knew her pencils!
• mini new testament , and I am talking mini - no more than 2 in x 2 in, paperback natch. Despite her Norwegian roots, Veda was raised Baptist. Big Billy Graham fan.
• 14 silver dollars commemorating the moon landing. Score!

Naturally this got me thinking about all kinds of things, not the least of which was: what do your purse/wallet contents say about you? In my case, not much, and maybe that says something about me after all: that I do not like to be burdened with a lot of stuff. Over the past couple of years I have gone to a very lightweight cross body oversized wallet, just big enough to handle my actual wallet, my cell phone, a pair of glasses if I am too lazy to put in my contacts; some business cards, and some lipstick. That's it. No photos of loved ones (they are on my phone now), no mini bibles (although I do have a sweet handwritten note from Granny Veda tucked into my wallet that provides similar inspiration), and most of my cash is represented by a plastic ATM card. Curious that my daily purse contents are eerily similar to the picked-over remains of Granny's long-abandoned handbag. Am I subconsciously preparing for my own demise? Or just wary of the trap a larger purse represents - its contents gradually expand to fill all existing spaces? Purses, like Nature itself, abhor a void. 

If I ever become a granny, I think my electronic gadgets will represent the Granny Purse to my future grandchildren. They will ooh and ahh over the ancient clunky phone model I refused to replace. They will find my music collection impossibly retro. They will wonder why I wasted so much space storing ridiculous mediocre-quality pix in the Photo Gallery. And just about then, they will wonder if they still make a charger for that ph-

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