By: Marlene Oxender
Montpelier, Ohio
Years ago, when our family discussed who would inherit Grandma Parnham’s candy dish, my husband was glad to learn that his grandmother had already shared her thoughts. She told them that he was the grandchild who had made the most use of it, so it should be his.
And so it was. After 50 years on Grandma’s kitchen countertop, the green Depression glass dish changed hands and has now been in our home for nearly 40 years.
If only the candy dish could tell me its stories. I’d like to hear about lemon drops and ribbon candy. Or was it orange slices? Maybe it was circus peanuts.
I’m not a fiction writer, but I’d consider writing a book about my interview with the candy dish. I’d want to know how many times Grandma lifted the lid to refill it and where the dish came from.
Was it a gift? I’d ask about the youngest hands that ever lifted the lid – and the oldest. I’d want to know who couldn’t keep their hands out of it and what their favorites were.
I’d ask it to tell me some good stories about Grandma and Grandpa’s five children – Doris, Harold, Richard, Virginia, and my mother-in-law, Patricia.
If I could watch a few scenes from their lives on the farm, I’d choose to see how Grandma taught her daughters to sew. There would have been a first time each child sat in front of the sewing machine.
A first time threading the bobbin. A first time completing a clothing project and modeling it for the rest of the family. And the candy dish would have been a witness.
In our box of memorabilia from the Parnham side of the family is an Ohio State 4-H Report Form that Patricia had completed at the age of 14. In her cursive handwriting, she answered a question about how her 4-H work could benefit the community: “I can help other people learn to sew.”
She penned those words in 1942, not knowing what a talented seamstress she would someday become. Not knowing how many homecoming and wedding dresses she’d someday sew for the women in her life. Not knowing that her quilts would win blue ribbons at the county fair.
Patricia’s oldest sister Doris was also a talented seamstress. When our daughters were born, she and Uncle Ted came to visit with gifts in hand.
Aunt Doris was the seamstress who created Doggy Pillow, a pillow that went on to be loved so much, he is now fragile with age and tucked away in a dresser drawer. He was the inspiration behind my Doggy Pillow poem.
Many people remember Harold as their school principal, but we knew him as Uncle Harold and his wife as Aunt Virginia. Our fondest memories of the two may be the impromptu visits they made to our home when they were out on Sunday afternoon drives.
We were glad they made our home one of their stopping points. Through their visits, our daughters learned how family remains connected, and our candy dish was likely pleased to see familiar faces once again.
Uncle Richard served in the Navy before coming home to work at the Farm Bureau. He and Aunt Fern raised their children in Montpelier and, as a family, they helped farm the 70-acre property.
Lunch at Grandma’s house meant she would serve a meal that ended with homemade pie for dessert. Everyone knew to be quiet so Grandpa could listen to the farm news report on the radio. Afterward, they headed outdoors, where even the girls knew how to drive a tractor.
Another of Grandma’s daughters, Virginia, was fondly known as Aunt Ginny; her husband, Dante Fabiani, was Uncle Don. The two had met at Tri-State College, now Trine University, in Angola, Indiana. Aunt Ginny was a talented homemaker who passed her interest in needlework on to her daughters.
A visit to the Fabiani Theatre on the Trine campus is a fun one, for in the lobby is a framed portrait of Virginia Fabiani. And it makes us smile just knowing that’s really a portrait of Aunt Ginny.
The Parnham family scrapbook is full of photos that had never been labeled with names, so I’ve enlisted help from cousins. It’s somewhat comical that sorting through the box of papers remains on nearly everyone’s January to-do list, year after year.
Reading through the memorabilia is fun, yet it can leave us with a sense of emptiness – a feeling that part of the story is missing. If they were still here, we’d ask them to tell their stories once again. This time, we’re older. This time, we really do want to hear about their younger days. In their own words.
Perhaps a grandmother’s candy dish is never about candy. Maybe it’s an invitation that draws people together to do the ordinary things families do. Maybe it’s a lesson in how to sit down and stay awhile.
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Marlene Oxender is a writer, speaker, and author. She writes about growing up in the small town of Edgerton, her ten siblings, the memorabilia in her parents’ estate, and her late younger brother, Stevie Kimpel, who was born with Down syndrome. Her three published books, Picket Fences, Stevie, and “Grandma, You Already Am Old!” are available on Amazon. Marlene can be reached at mpoxender@gmail.com