A wedding gift Grandma Dorothy and Grandpa E.B. received in 1926 was a bisque China teapot in the shape of an elephant. Very fitting, considering they were lifelong Republicans, but on the other hand, they were not tea drinkers. No matter, because the lovely piece was destined to become my mother’s treasure that sat front and center behind the glass doors of her China closet in the dining room.
I’m not certain of the exact contents, except for a few — her diamond ring, the safety deposit key and the dollars she used for her weekly budget. My mother, and only my mother, was privy to the elephant and its contents.
Nearly all of our groceries were purchased at Art Larson’s Mercantile where we had a charge account that Dad settled each month. If we purchased any items at Nelson’s, Bergeson’s or Jorgensen’s Locker, Mom would put the approximate amount in a small coin purse for us. If the boys needed a haircut, or we had an opportunity to go to Medford with our kindly neighbors, the Kiger’s, or possibly go roller-skating at the town hall, Mom would see if money was available. She almost always accommodated us, though there never was extra for a soda or popcorn. It didn’t matter — we were happy to do without.
So, the elephant had special meaning for all of us, and when the time came for dividing our parent’s possessions, Carl selected “the elephant.”
Years went past and then the rest of my siblings had a big surprise. Doris, Carl’s wife, took it upon herself to search for “more elephants” in order we’d all have a replica of the treasure. Between antique shops and online searches, she found one for each of us. And even though mine isn’t the original, it represents the original. I’ve enjoyed owning “my elephant” and treasure the memories it evokes.
