I was staring at the back of my fridge and thinking about a pot. Not just any pot; it was a pot that dates back 50 years or more — with a slightly scorched copper bottom, a solid handle I never need to adjust with my Phillips-head screwdriver, and definite signs of use. It is a vintage Revere Ware pot. It is a thing that lasts.
Now, there is nothing special about this pot really; it is one of two that my mother gave me after my college graduation when I was headed out-of-state to my first apartment and my first job. These pots were among those she had been cooking with for a good 20 years at least (as far as I knew)… thus my estimate that they date back a half century!
So both pots, which I continue to use, are things that last.
At the moment, the larger of the two is holding homemade soup that I whipped up about a week ago, which is what sent me to the fridge… Whatever is left is “signaling” it’s time to dump it! (And shame on me for wasting any food, which I try not to do.) Then I need to wash the pot and put it away, knowing full well it will be ready for the next stew or soup anytime I need it.
Contrast this reality with the fact that I am looking at several other saucepans, frypans, and assorted cookware stacked near my stove, and all of it has been purchased within the past one to five years, as these items need to be fairly routinely replaced.
Comparatively, these are things that do not last.
Now about those pots… I only vaguely recall my mother giving me these kitchen items; she gave me a hard time over so much when I was younger that I frequently took the path of least resistance when dealing with her. She was disapproving of my spending money on bright blue plasticware to use for dishes and raised an eyebrow at my purchase of a Marimekko comforter and sheet set. No doubt, when she insisted I take her Revere Ware, I simply rolled my eyes and said, “fine.”
Could I have anticipated that my mother’s pots would serve me for decades? Surely not.
As for my contentious relationship with the woman who bore me, that too would take decades to appreciate. After all, we better understand the complexity of family dynamics when we ourselves become parents.
Ah, the wisdom we gain over the years experiencing all the nuance of what family means…
Turning my attention away from fridge maintenance and pot cleaning (which I’m clearly procrastinating), I note there is a bit of tidying to do on my kitchen table as well. For the past week I had lilies and daisies brightening the kitchen, but having tossed the flowers, the vase needs tending to. It is a simple, solid cylinder of clear glass, purchased a dozen or so years ago, and it is also a thing that lasts.
The flowers, on the other hand, had to go. Cut flowers don’t endure; we don’t expect them to. We understand that they will bud, bloom, provide pleasure, and then begin to wither, shed a few petals, and ultimately return to the ground as mulch or some other (recycled) element of the environment.
We can only hope the environment is a “thing” that lasts!
And what about me? What about you? To what extent are we built to last? To what extent are our limbs or bones going to serve us beyond the brain, or maybe the other way around? Can we predict what will last as we grow older? Should we worry about it?
What about a sense of humor? What about our value systems? How about hopefulness? Which of these are built to last? And is there anything that I can do or you can do to encourage these aspects of who we are — our best aspects of who we are — to persist? Wouldn’t we like to “bloom” for as long as possible, and put off the withering?
What else lasts?
Objects that are well made. Objects that are cared for. (I think of my mother’s china, my grandmother’s portrait, and a few family antiques.)
So what about relationships? Will our relationships last?
What about love, in general? What about moments we share? What of contributions and creations that we leave behind, even if they only touch one person for the better? What about our sentimental stories passed along to our children and their children?
As for my pot — both my pots — based on a bit of researching, I’m guessing they date to somewhere in the late 1940s or early-mid ’50s. They’re older than I thought! In fact, it’s quite possible that these Revere Ware copper clad pots once belonged to my grandmother, as I remember her having similar cookware. Or, she may have given them to my mother when she married in the 1950s.
Hmmm. For all I know, my pots are already on third-generational usage. And I suspect they will continue to function long past the time when my creaky limbs give way and my multi-tasking mind yields to octogenarian distraction.
Do tell…
- Might you have well-worn but fully functional objects given to you by parents or grandparents?
- Any objects that have surprised you with their anti-obsolescence functionality?
- Any of your own qualities that have stood you in good stead in their persistence and longevity?
I welcome your thoughts.
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I also have RevereWare pots–a set from my first marriage (mid-’80s). I had to put them away, as well as my mom’s big magnalite skillet that she cooked 90% of meals in, because they don’t work on my induction stove. Saving for my kid.
I bought a set of induction-friendly Cristel pots, made in France; their slogan is “buy once, for life.”
I still use the ironing board my grandma gave me in 1980; it was a hand-me-down then. Same cover on it! It has been with me to three countries.
Most of my dishes have been used for generations, either in my family or my husband’s. Same with much of our furniture. And the “new” stuff mostly dates to the ’80s. We weren’t buying super-expensive stuff then; it was just made better. It wasn’t intended to be disposable.
Should I admit that my two winter coats also date to the last century?
You were spot-on about not understanding our mothers until we have kids ourselves. Unfortunately for my mom, I didn’t get to that point until rather late. The clashes are part of the process of establishing our independence; the peace treaty comes with grandchildren.
Fabulous post, DA! The question of longevity being ever relevant. I have a pan I bought for myself one Mother’s Day about 15 years ago. It’s still my favorite. The husband groused about the price yet he didn’t even get me a card that year. I digress. I have my grandmother’s tea cups that are over sixty years old. That’s it for hand me downs. My body is strong but will not outlast your cookware LOL.
I doubt I’ll outlast my Revere cookware either, Lisa!
I’ll combine a couple of the themes mentioned and say that the most enduring things received from my parents were most of their values and some of their habits. In particular, sensible ways of looking at the world, being balanced, conservative in some ways, liberal in others. General lifestyle habits. Ways of treating people. The habit and value of reading.
I really can’t point to much in the way of material goods, with the possible exception of the washer/dryer set they gave us for painting their house in 1989. They are still happily humming away, having needed only a few minor repairs. They seemed destined to outlast the retailer they were purchased from, Sears.
What have made the most impressions are certain memories. How my father was prone to buying us nice coats. It wasn’t until after his passing that my mother told me it was because that was something he lacked during the Depression. How, when as a teenager I wrecked my first car, he promptly offered the use of his whenever I needed it, with the explanation to my mother that a rider should get back on a horse after being thrown, so as not to be afraid. I grinned internally, knowing that wasn’t an issue, but his gesture made an imprint I will never forget.
Both my mother and mother-in-law used the RevereWare copper bottom pots and skillets. I do not have any myself. One mother is still living and the other passed away in 2016.
My oldest kitchen item still functioning is made in USA GE handheld electric mixer. It was given to me during my university years when my mother wanted to purchase herself a new improved mixer. Although I do not consider such an item special, the electric gadget surprises me every time I use it. When I was in my 40’s hosting Christmas dinner my mother got a good laugh as mine was still functioning and her improved one had already needed another replacement.
On a vintage sentimental item, I still wear a gold wedding band engraved March 4th 1916 with my step-grandparents names and is the wedding band I chose to wore for my own marriage in 1984, although the marriage did not last our love for one another remains in a different form.
I also own a pair of green glass lamps purchased with green stamps! Anyone remember those stamps and purchases with green stamps?
Like you (and Robert), I remember green stamps too! My mother had a radio in the kitchen that she used for decades, which was purchased with green stamps.
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Wow, TD! Trading stamps – I had to go to wiki to remember the formal name for them.
I didn’t think anyone was ever able to redeem them for anything worthwhile! I remember getting them regularly and thinking they had value, that is until I went to the catalog and looked at “prices”. Even the smallest thing took books and books. And to make things worse, there wasn’t just one brand of stamp, so there worth was diluted even more. I was thinking there were Yellow Stamps also, but Wiki suggests they were probably Gold Stamps.
I think in all my childhood the family maybe bought one thing, but darned if I can remember what it was. Maybe a hand mixer.
Robert, Your qualities that have stood you in good stead in their persistence and longevity is definitely a good sense of humor. A hand mixer! I laughed so hard and am still laughing ?.
D.A., I love your memory of the radio in your mother’s kitchen. A luxury item indeed. I wonder how many books of green stamps that took. Definitely worth it!
I have a wonderful memory of my grandmother allowing me to be a girl. I was allowed to pick out a golden hand mirror and hairbrush set with green stamps.
My mother wanted me to be a boy like her other three children. When I was in my late 40’s my mother asked me if I remembered the sparkling dress that I wore one Easter Sunday as a child. I wasn’t clear her point of such a question. I must have been 9. My mother said that she didn’t want me to wear a dress. She said that I had such a temper tantrum that my grandmother went back to the store, bought it and gave it to me as a gift so I could wear that dress. I loved that white sparkling dress and the purple velvet swim suit, my first bikini, that my grandmother gave to me as a birthday gift in my teens. I have a photo of my mother’s face of shock as she looked inside with horror. Neither the sparkling dress nor the velvet swim suit remain, yet fond memories of my grandmother still do!