I have a “utility pillow” close by my big chair that started out a lot of years ago as part of my ancestors’ feather bed.  I use it every day — it is small and fits under my elbow when I’m propping up a book or under the lap board when I’m writing a letter.  The sturdy cover on the pillow is not so sturdy anymore and this morning a feather worked its way through the cover.  As I picked it up and dropped it into my wastebasket I was reminded of the great grandmother who once had nothing but down pillows and featherbeds in the sleeping chambers of their rather primitive cabin in the Middle River area of Danbury.

My all-time favorite story from this tiny great grandparent, who ruled her family with an iron hand and iron will, was about her living alone while her big Civil War veteran husband established his blacksmith shop in Danbury.  He rose early and hitched up his horse and buggy to go to work, not to return till late each day.

Grandma (no pet names for her) had the responsibility of bringing up their large family of five sons and one daughter.  She had no help other than the older boys.  On washday, they helped to fill the tubs with water and empty them when the wash was done.  It was then that Grandma had to use a little Yankee ingenuity.  With two or three very young children in the house, she had to go out and hang up the clothes on the line in the yard.

When her baskets of clothes were ready to go out, grandma got down the molasses jug and on each little child’s thumb put a generous dollop of the sticky dark syrup.  From the feather pillow she got three or four feathers, and handed one or two to each toddler.  She claimed this was diversion enough to keep them occupied and out of mischief just long enough to hang out her wash.

This tiny mother of six was never idle.  When years later she and great grandfather had moved to “the city” she continued to do all kinds of hard work.  I have been ever grateful that she had the patience to teach me (at age eight or ten) to crochet, to knit and to do simple cross-stitch embroidery; I flunked on the lessons for tatting — I just couldn’t get the hang of it.  But over the years, I have crocheted afghans for all my family and I still make several small ones each year for the pediatric unit at Laurie’s Medical Center in Vermont.  For each and every one I have made, I use grandma’s metal crochet hook; — it gives me a great sense of satisfaction and I feel part of the past as I turn yarn into baby blankets.

While living in the “city” grandma still rose at dawn and prepared dessert for their meals and at least once a week she baked loaves of molasses cake or pies or bowls of bread pudding, for each of the four families of sons and their wives, still residing in Danbury.

She would call and tell them to stop at whatever time the dessert would be ready.  I can still hear her admonish them to “bring back the dish so you’ll have something next week.”

I wanted badly to try and make a pie.  I was partial to the fragrant apple pies or strawberry-rhubarb pies that came out of the oven. They were temptation of the highest form.  After considerable pleading, I was finally to be taught to make the crust and to prepare a blueberry pie, one late summer day.  It was a stipulation that I report to the pantry by 7 am — no later.  I was not late.

I think there were three such lessons in all, and I was confident enough to make a pie by myself.  Grandma didn’t even blink when I chose to make butterscotch filling.  She assembled the ingredients, helped me to get the piecrust ready, and we had butterscotch pie for supper dessert, that day.  It is still one of my favorites, but the fact that I was given a choice of flavors, and that great little lady didn’t try to change my mind, was a lesson in itself!

At other times, we did things like preparing great pots of beans “Connecticut style,” and we made tapioca pudding and one fall when the older son brought a bushel of garden vegetables, we made pepper relish and a few jars of chili sauce.  These special times were my introduction to home cooking and I never regretted the learning.

Grandma never showed any favoritism among her offspring.  One of the last years we all lived in the two-family house, she decided each family should have a new set of china. Big families required large sets of dishes, so a service for twelve was ordered for Christmas, for each son.  Her second oldest son was my grandfather so I have inherited their set.  It is one of my choicest possessions.  It’s Bavarian china and the pattern is lovely.  When I was emptying my grandfather’s desk after he passed away, I found the receipt for five sets of china from a store in Danbury — the only daughter had also died by then.  It cost $45 for each set of these beautiful old dishes.  So far, have not broken a piece — remarkable, considering I use it quite often.

The quote that ended last week’s column was, surprisingly by Helen Hayes.

Who said “Gentlemen prefer bonds”?