Collecting with Mom – The Committed Collector

Holidays (even ones like Labor Day that don’t have an array of trappings associated with them) always make me think of my family, especially my mother who made all of our holidays special.

Mom had always wanted four daughters, but I was her only one, so we were quite close. Mom was a rather progressive mother and taught me how to take care of a home as well as how to go out into the work world. When I was a child, she was the best mother I could imagine. When I became an adult, she became one of my best friends.

All along, Mom also instilled in me her love of beautiful things, respect for the past, and appreciation of cherished heirlooms (regardless of any monetary value).

When I finally finished college and had a real job and a place of my own in Jacksonville, Florida, Mom and I would go shopping from time to time to find things to feather my nest. Had I been practical, I would have wanted to go to the department stores at our nearby mall, Regency Square. Of course, I was more interested in exotic things, pretty pieces, and hidden treasures, so I usually wanted to go to places like Pier One Imports, antiques shops, and back-roads flea markets.

One of our favorite places was a small, independent antiques shop that had opened up in a former convenience store at the corner of Lone Star and Mill Creek roads. It was a free-standing building, with only the one storefront that had huge picture windows that let in a lot of light.

The shop was only a few miles from my childhood home, so I could pick up Mom, and she and I could be there in just minutes. Better still, the shop was open on Sundays until late afternoon, so we could get in some antiquing even on busy weekends.

That was a real treat for us both. In those days, the late 1980s and early 1990s, many antiques shops were often located in downtown settings or tourist towns, so having one in our own suburb was a delight. It also created a danger for me, especially.

You see, the shop was owned by a woman who had decidedly feminine sensibilities. Consequently, the shop had very little in the way of machinery, tools, sporting equipment, and other traditionally masculine items.

Instead, the owner filled the shelves with needlework, lamps, and candlesticks. The tables were set with china and glassware, silver and linens. One display after another was filled with beautiful things that sparkled and shone.

They were items that women would have used, so they were often decorated with flowers and garlands, scrolls and curlicues. The materials were often fine, like porcelain and crystal, and their colors were usually soft pastels.

I remember finding a small white teapot at that shop. It’s an individual teapot meant to hold only two cups of tea, and it’s just a perfect example of a teapot. The ceramic is fine, the glaze is pure white, and the decoration (swirls from base to opening) are delicate.

All these years later, that teapot that I found on a Sunday outing with my mother with remains one of my favorites. More important, I can’t see that teapot without recalling how Mom and I were together when I found it.

I also found a beautiful egg cup at that little shop. It’s a nice, white ceramic with a pink rose pattern on it. I rarely serve soft-boiled eggs, so I rarely use that darling egg cup. Perhaps I should, though. Again, thinking of it reminds me of my mother and how she taught me to notice details and appreciate beautiful things.

Unfortunately, that antiques shop didn’t stay in business for more than a year or two as I recall. How sad. It was a charming shop filled with lovely things. The owner was friendly, and she sold quality pieces. In addition, it was a place designed for women, and my mom and I were saddened by the loss of a place that honored the kinds of things that women past had used and women since could cherish.

Needless to say, I, the committed collector, still have both the teapot and the egg cup, which I’ve displayed in one apartment after another and in both houses we’ve bought here in the Rochester area. Both are still precious to me because they are beautiful and because they remind me of Mom.

So sad that she can’t be here this holiday weekend as we get together with family.

Happy Labor Day weekend, Everyone.

Patti
The Committed Collector