A Piece of the Past
by Kristy Nash

For as long as I can remember, it stood in MeMe's pantry, a cupboard for pots and pans, with drawers for dish towels, and half-eaten loaves of bread sitting on its countertop. I never knew it was anything special. My Dad has an eye for those things, however, and he had the presence of mind to make a request for it even before MeMe died in 1984. I guess no one else in the family realized what lay under multiple layers of paint, but Dad did, so after George passed away in 1989, he hauled the cupboard to Clarksville from Bluefield in the back of our pick-up truck.

It was Dad, also, who realized that the caddy-shelf hanging on the wall in the basement shower (to put your shampoo and soap on) actually belonged to this cupboard. The missing front door, in fact, slightly warped from years in the shower, but still recognizable once you got it out of its cellar home.

Dad scoffs now and says all he knew about the cabinet was that he thought it was made of oak, that's why he requested it. But I know better. He has an eye for treasure and a love of history, so when those two things come close to home, he's the first to spot something special.

It sat in his workshop for quite a few years, an old dump-truck he played with as a child sitting on top of it, both awaiting their rebirth as family heirlooms (nearly every grandkid has played with the truck at one time or another, and it remained in George's garage until he insisted Dad bring it home.) The cabinet became one of those projects you'll "get around to later, when you have some free time."

Luckily, my father also prescribes to the adage, there's no time like the present, so he finally began the monumental task of scraping off several coats of ancient paint that had literally changed the shape of this cabinet and made it unrecognizable.

Cleaning the hardware attached to the cabinet was a chore, as MeMe had painted over it all instead of removing it first, thus creating an excellent adhesive bond between the two. After Dad got all the paint off, he discovered the reason for it being there in the first place. On one of the top doors, above the ceramic countertop, was a large burnt mark. The fastidious person that she was, MeMe certainly couldn't have a burn mark like that showing on her kitchen cabinet, so she must have decided to paint it right then and there, to cover up the blemish.

Upon ending up with a naked piece of furniture, Dad suddenly realized what he had. A genuine, original, circa-1920 Hoosier kitchen cabinet. The kind made in Indiana. The kind sold to thousands of households before built-in countertops became the rage in the 1950's and everyone began picking out their cabinets at Lowe's or Home Depot. Back in the days you didn't have any plumbing to worry about so you could literally have your kitchen in any room of the house.

To say we were all thrilled would have been an understatement.

Dad was the one left with the task of finishing his project, however, and he was missing a few key pieces of hardware, as well as some accessories he and his brothers remembered the cabinet having. (Amazingly, a heavy glass salt box that I'd gotten from MeMe, that my Mom had sitting on her window sill to put loose change in, suddenly had its original home back.)

That's when the 1920's slammed headfirst into the 1990's! Dad did web research into Hoosier cabinets and discovered a company in Indiana that had bought all of the molds for every piece of hardware and accessory the company made for its cabinets years ago. He received their catalog and replaced the key items he was missing, adding in the accessories he remembered the cabinet having back in its heyday when his mother actually used it to prepare food on.

My Dad had said from the beginning he was going to refinish the cabinet and give it to me, seeing as how I'm probably the biggest history buff in the family. Dad has done a lot of woodworking over the years and has made quite a few items. He's always been partial to oak and dark wood stains, as you know if you've visited and seen any of his handywork. However, I'd just moved into a new house and as a housewarming present, Mom and Dad made and stained wooden shutters for my living room, and they had me pick out what color stain I wanted. It was Honey Maple, and Dad used the same stain on this cabinet, to finish it off.

To say the finished piece is beautiful would hardly do it justice, nor the hard work and love my Dad put into it. It is a true family heirloom in every sense of the word and I still can't believe I'm the person in the family in possession of it! MeMe would have been quite impressed with what her son achieved, and in restoring and admiring this cabinet now, we have obtained further respect for MeMe and the life she led while she was using this piece of history. The burn mark she accidentally put on the door, and was her reason for painting the cabinet in the first place, now adds character to an already amazing piece. As does the worn spot on the ceramic where MeMe rolled hundreds of pounds of dough into breads and biscuits for her family.

When Mom and Dad made the trip to Indianapolis to deliver the cabinet, we visited the showroom of the updated Hoosier Cabinet Company. On their showroom floor, we found a 1920-something reproduction of a similar cabinet that was priced at $1750.00. After explaining what we were in possession of, we were told that, sight-unseen, it would have to be valued at least $3000.00, if not more.

Three-thousand dollars? Pocket-change when compared to the memories and love in this old cabinet. You couldn't give me three million for it!

Footnote: The cupboard now sits predominantly in my dining room. On top is the restored metal dump-truck Dad played with as a child, and a reproduction of an old metal advertisement sign for Hoosier Kitchen Cabinets.