This being the month of Christ's birth and all (depending on your beliefs of course!), the following story seemed like a must cover for the 'Derby:
A Michigan family truly has the gift that keeps on giving. For one hundred forty-eight years, they've been handing down a christening gown for each generation of babies to wear. Another family gown has been making the rounds of religious ceremonies for one hundred twenty-four.
The younger of the two gowns is the more popular - shorter, with delicate lace, Dick and Hedy Rewalt say the eyelet is fragile but original. Hedy is proud of her role as unofficial "keeper of the gowns." When a new baby is welcomed to the family, she's the one they call to pull the gowns from her Michigan attic and get them ready for the big day. She'll wrap them in a box and send them via UPS if they have to go out of town, making sure she puts a trace on the box and sending careful instructions to avoid ironing if at all possible. After being worn, the gowns are washed in Woolite and wrapped in acid-free tissue, set aside until the next baby makes his or her way into the world.
They've survived forty-eight kids so far, and six generations of Rewalts from Ohio to Florida.
I think this story spoke to me because my own daughter wore my christening gown, a soft white garment crocheted by my godmother. Although I've heard of families where tradition dictates the godmother-to-be buys the baby a new christening outfit, I told my friend that wouldn't be necessary. My mom pulled my old gown out of storage, and we slipped it over my daughter's head on her baptism day. A few adjustments were made - I was baptized in August, while my daughter's ceremony in October forced me to slip a long-sleeved onesie on under the short-sleeved dress. Four months by the time we finally made arrangements for her baptism, my daughter was slightly larger than the one-month-old me who my parents placed in a baptismal font - forcing my mother-in-law to move some buttons on the back of the gown. For someone who's fairly un-sentimental, I teared up at the sight, and my godmother? Forget it. I got one of those teary smiles where you can't tell if they want to cry or grin. Now the gown is wrapped in a zippered plastic bag in hopes that my daughter will one day choose to dress her little one in the same gown.
What surprised me was how many people couldn't believe I let my daughter wear the gown. They said it was sweet - but while their parents have saved some of their childhood mementos, they wouldn't dream of reusing them for their kids. Let them have their own memories, they say.
What about your family?
Image: Rolling Pin Productions
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