After Liz and I eloped in Asheville we wanted to bring some things home with us to remind us of the time we ran off to the mountains to stand at the base of a waterfall, profess our love, and commit our lives to one another. When all was said and done, we brought back several things (all from Oddfellows, a perfectly curated shop of dead people stuff).
We
returned with two mid-century, narrow-legged chairs. The kind with tiny-tipped
feet that Liz loves so much. A few old cinema signs. Days of the week. Matinees
anyone? A couple of grey-green cans of “EMERGENCY DRINKING WATER” that
are/were “PROPERTY U.S. GOV’T”. Drink up! And something that I had my eyes set
on from the start – one of the few things that I
knew would last the duration of our marriage, our lives, and beyond – a cast iron skillet.
Not
just any cast iron skillet. A Griswold 5 cast iron skillet. Based on the logo
on the underside of the skillet, this particular one was born between
1919-1940. It has been around for a bit. At minimum, more than Liz and I
combined. Why Griswold? Why the 5? Well first, Griswold was manufactured in
Erie, PA. My grandfather (the Simon of Simon Curtis) was born in Erie. And
second, every time I hold that handle, and see the 5 emblazoned on it, I will
remember that I married The One on 5/5.
The
Griswold 5 was in need of a little care. I didn’t want to break her down with
chemicals, but wanted to clean her up a bit. I cut a small sweet potato in
half, poured course sea salt into the pan, and scrubbed. The poor girl had all
kinds of gunk on her (I’m going to assume the good old cooking type). After a
good scrub, oil rub, and a stove sauna, she was as good as new.
Maybe
I am expecting too much out of a piece of old metal, but if it is up to me and
Laverne, we will endure. We will be strong. We will serve the family. Oh,
yeah.. My new/old cast iron skillet is named Laverne.
