Hardly a day goes by when I am not using my crochet hook. I recall when I was a girl, I sometimes used a small ivory crochet hook that my Mom had inherited. I used it to the point where the end of it broke off and it could be used for crochet no longer. Today, I thought to ask my Mom about the ivory heirlooms, which include this hors d’oeuvres fork. Here was her reply:
“I believe they were Grandma Mary Etta Bone’s ivory pieces. My Mother could do mending and some embroidery work on dish towels.I don’t remember now if my Mother gave them to me or if my Dad passed them on after my Mother died. The past can be like a jigsaw puzzle too…”
I guess, if the ivory pieces belonged originally to Great Grandma Mary Etta, then perhaps she could crochet? 🙂 I like to think so!
I also asked my Mom about a story she used to tell me…where someone in the family had a comical way of pronouncing the word “hors d’oeuvres” – something like “horsey dorvers”. I had thought it was my Uncle Jack who used to say that as a joke. But Mom responded:
“Not recalling him using that expression–he was always very precise with his words. On occasion if someone asked him if he would like some of the food, he would say –” a smidgen of this or that”. Always ate one food item at a time completely before going to the next choice. He was in the army and then went to Northwestern University when I lived in Wis. He did visit and also lived with is in Wis before being hired by Chicago Tribune in advertising copy. He had a baritone voice and would burst out in song–even in movie theaters or on the bus which was embarrassing. He wanted to be “discovered”! He loved theater and acting.”
I loved learning more about my Uncle Jack through her reply…I would have loved to have met him as he seems like such a wonderful, fascinating person!
So the mystery remains…if my Mom cannot remember…who used to say “hors d’oeuvres” in a funny way? Was it Grandpa Edstrom or someone else? Maybe it was even my own Dad!? That would possibly make sense considering his cute sense of humor! Or maybe it was one of my own older brothers?
Footnote: My apologies to Great Grandma Mary Etta for breaking your crochet hook. If it had survived, I’d still be using it today and thinking of you with every stitch!