My mother had a spoon just like it...not the same decorative pattern but the same wear pattern. One edge was well worn from use, light tarnish remained no matter how often it was used. And it was used daily.
When both my parents were gone, I helped my brothers clean out their house before we sold it. As I worked my way through the kitchen I found the spoon and kept it.
My other wasn't a cook, not in the traditional sense of the word. She was a registered nurse and worked through all my childhood years (and beyond). Cooking was tossing a few inexpensive items together - hamburg, pasta with stewed tomatoes (her version of goulash) or hamburg, canned corn and mashed potatoes (her version of shepherd's pie). Saturdays were always (yes, ALWAYS) baked beans and hot dogs (canned beans and fried/grilled hot dogs). Simple meals, a meat, a potato or pasta and a veggie, always followed by pudding or canned fruit.
Sunday dinners were cooked by my father...roast beef, for example. Simple fare ruled our house. I had never had fried chicken until treated to it by my boyfriend's parents at age 16. Tacos were discovered at age 28 or 29. When I left home and got married, my cooking was pretty much the same. Boxed macaroni and cheese, soups, canned and frozen veggies along with mom's simple recipes...these were staples in my household.
The spoon remained for many years but somewhere along the way, in some move, it disappeared. Now I had found a replacement...a replacement with memories that made me smile. Who could resist....memories for pennies!
The day came when Stu and I merged our goods and I sold my RV. A lot of things went to my daughter in Denver, to supplement her new household (she was recently separated). Others were left for the new owners of The Lily Pad. Where did the spoon go? I'm not really sure...but I hope it brings memories to whoever has it now. It was not just a spoon...
Happily hopping through life,
Donna