As she approaches 90 my mom makes regular attempts to shed
her possessions, but with memories attached to every item it is never easy to
get through a purging session. Most recently
we were sorting through her pots and pans.
The familiar aromas of cookies and cakes baking to perfection don’t fill
her kitchen very often any more so it seemed like thinning the cake pan collection
could be an easy task. Immediately I
came upon a situation I often pondered but never asked about as a kid. Four round cake pans, one 8 inch and one 9
inch that matched; and another 8 inch and 9 inch that matched. Why not matching 8s and matching 9s? It occurred to me that these pans became part
of her kitchenware before I was born, had held the batter of every birthday
cake I’d ever eaten, and must have been the first cake pans I’d poured my own
creations into. It was always just a
given that regardless of which size an intended cake was to be, its two layers would
never exactly match. But why?
It turns out, when my folks got married Mom could afford two
pans; and in order to have the freedom to bake different size cakes, she bought
one of each size with the intention of buying a second of each size out of some
future paycheck. So for a time, a two layer cake required baking one layer,
then re-using the pan to bake the other layer.
A year later, with money in hand to buy two more pans, she got to the
store to find that the design had slightly changed and it would be impossible
to match the pans she already had. So
she reluctantly bought one each of the new style—the same sizes but ever so slightly
different.
With frugality like that, it is a wonder that we became a
skiing family! In spite of it being a
relatively expensive sport—even in the 60s—every winter saw us forming family
bonds on the slopes. Buying equipment
for five had its challenges so hand-me-downs and obscure brands were part of
the deal. But one year I was blown away
when Christmas morning revealed a very cool pair of skis with a recognizable
name—they were tiger-strip orange Volkls! That winter, I was proud to shuffle along in
the lift line where everyone could see them, but I couldn’t help but notice other
skis like them were bright orange while mine were a muted version of the color. I spent that season and the next looking for
another skier wearing what I assumed was a special model of the iconic
ski.
Years later I learned that the muted color model was
unique. There was only one pair! My parents did their Christmas
shopping year round, picking up bargains wherever they could. One summer while browsing in Herman’s World of Sporting Goods they came upon an especially good deal—a pair of skis that
were heavily discounted because they had become mismatched when the top one in
a window display had faded from the sun! The skis were just the right size for their 11 year old daughter so they brought them home and laid the brighter one on the
window sill of their bedroom picture window.
With the curtains closed whenever I was around, I never saw the ski and
by Christmas morning four months later the skis were identically faded! I never knew my perfectly matched muted
orange skis were an economical invention.
Mom wasn't able to toss the cake pans out last week. From mismatched pans to mismatched skis, thank goodness my
parents knew how to leverage what they had to get the essentials in life!
