No Hope in My Hope Chest

The setting in the last book I read was the early 1800s. It was interesting to read the cultural differences we have with those that lived in this same country two hundred years ago. I was struck with the "decorum" expected, especially from girls and women. It didn't seem like men were held to the same "in the box" rules. I have a theory about the struggle of the place of women but rather than open that box of worms, I'll move on.

The main character of the story was getting older and was unmarried. Her "hope chest" was brimming but not much hope in sight for marriage....until.....
I started thinking about hope chests and my short and brief experience with them. Mine was cedar as most were in my day. It was dark wood with rather contemporary lines. I received mine on the Christmas of my senior year of high school. Yes, my senior year (or was it my junior year, I don't remember) of high school. I had dated a young man for most of my high school years. He joined the army and went off to Germany. Our courtship for two years was via letters. In his attempt to secure his future bride, he made arrangements for someone unknown to me to purchase a hope chest for me. On Christmas morning, which was always the morning with the most magic at my childhood home, a beautiful hope chest set near the tree.

I recall the guarded smile on my parents faces and my dad's effort to take pictures so that he could send those to the purchaser. I can still feel the sick feeling in my stomach. I suppose after all these years, I can express my true feelings at that moment. The boy had been gone a long time and we had spent little time with one another. I spent most of my junior and senior years of high school waiting for a soldier. I was thinking of going to college and quite frankly was unsure about this whole relationship thing. As I sat getting my picture taken next to the symbol of hope....I was hesitant and less than hopeful. To be honest, I wasn't so sure I liked what was happening to me.

Like any young girl with a hope chest, I filled it with things "we" would need once we were married (because it was pretty evident that was what was expected). I remember thinking that this small box held very little of what one needs to make a home but it did house special items that I or someone close to me hand embroidered or purchased for me. It was soon filled with "hope".

High school graduation happened...I went to New York City and Washington DC in the spring with my classmates. It was a wonderful time of life. That summer I worked one more growing season for Fred Moolenaar, picking his produce and taking it to market with him. Then it was off to college. During my first two weeks at college I was asked to go out with five different guys. I had a hope chest at home.....I couldn't date anyone.....I was stuck.

I boarded in a home about fifteen miles from the college in a Dutch community called Roseland. Ken drove a car pool to school each day and the pool was made up of four young men......and eventually me. I sat in the middle of the front seat. The young man on my left began to get more friendly as the weeks ticked by. Eventually, I got the courage to break the relationship with the soldier and give myself the opportunity to grow up and the freedom I felt I didn't have.

When I came home from school one weekend, my brother helped me carry the hope chest from my room in the second floor down and out the door into the station wagon and then on to the home of the purchaser. He was still in Germany and I felt badly for him. As we walked the chest in, his mother cried. I felt like a skunk. Without many words, we put the chest where she directed us and walked out the door. I can't espress the relief it was to be FREE of that hope chest.

to be continued tomorrow.......