If my husband and I ever got divorced, it would be an awful time splitting up the silverware – not the kids – the silverware. When we married, we combined our grandmother's hand-me-down silverware, much like we combined our two families. It is a jumbled organized mess, but to me it sends the exact message that I want to relay to my family, friends and all those served at my table.
"We come from all walks of life, and we are all headed in our own directions, our history is rich and diverse, each of us unique and we all serve a purpose."
We no longer keep our silverware in a drawer (which it has been in the same drawer in my home – which was my grandmother’s home before me) for well over 3 decades. Now, however, it sits on my kitchen island for the world to see, for each person to grab out of their separate containers, it hardly matches at all. It would also seem that some individuals have their favorite forks or spoons to use, but believe me – it all gets used.
I love my dishes and was honestly surprised that anyone left them. As I said, I bought my grandparent’s home. Before my grandmother passed, but after my grandfather had moved on. Various relatives ascended upon their home and took things that they had given my grandparents or that they wanted. My Mom was not one of them, she was taking care of my grandmother’s who was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s – it is a heart wrenching disease that I fear – daily and another blog in the making - entirely.
I recall that each of my cousins got various things after my grandmother passed. Jewelry, my grandfather’s guns, appliances, vehicles, paintings - various things of that nature. I got my grandfather’s Gibson guitar – he gave it to me himself when I was 12. I have had it ever since, it has been played and played and played some more and now hangs in memory of him, with a weak, but original bridge – I dare not play it or string it tight for fear of it giving way. I was 20 when he died. For some reason, I think everyone looked at that guitar like it was part of the estate so I was not entitled to anything else (so needless to say it is precious to me – as it is the only thing I have that was his).
Ironically, even when I bought the home and all of its’ remaining contents I was told that they would be back (they being my Mom and her brothers) to get various other things and could I hang on to them until they could come. I put all the things that I was told they might want in the “playhouse” (which eventually fell in on itself and I had to tear down), needless to say, no one ever came. It kind of hurt hearing my Mom tell me that the kitchen table and chairs were only on loan to me – I bought the house, but nothing in it was really mine to keep.
But no one came to collect their things that I had saved for them and no one seemed to care or want my grandmother’s dishes. They are not fancy dishes mind you. They are made by Corelle; you know the kind that will not break. I believe my grandmother started getting them when she would buy her groceries (in the 1970’s), spend so much, and get a dish. It is the Woodland pattern I now know.
She had a lot of it, probably 15 of the plates, 7 or 8 coffee cups, various bowls and saucers, but there were a lot of missing pieces. I was considering selling them on eBay or in a garage sale, when I thought to myself – finish her collection. My goal was to find every piece and finish her set and keep it and use it. I wanted enough to feed 30. Yes, 30. We are a blended family with five children and I hope they all grow up and get married and come home for Christmas and I do not have ENOUGH plates. That is what I hope. So that was my goal.
I am still finding pieces (they actually made pasta dishes, mixing bowls, salt and pepper shakers – so as you can imagine a set of 30 – could take a lifetime). But her dishes (my collection) have become something I love. The dishes that no one wanted are my favorite dishes. They are very 70’s – which is truly not my style – but when I look at them and feel the pattern as I wash them, I am reminded of the woman that used to call me “Cher” (and I spelled it that way so you would know how to sound it out) and she is the ONLY one that ever did. I miss her. I miss them – my grandparents – every day.
It took me a decade myself to change my kitchen because I did not want to ruin the memory of my grandmother standing in it. But when the appliances started dying off one by one, and my family became so large I could not work in the kitchen while they were sitting at the table, it became necessary to change it. I love the changes, but I love what remains the same. My dishes, combined with my grandmother’s dishes, my cabinets, my kitchen island (which is made from a cabinet that served as a barrier between the den and kitchen before) and our silverware. When I watch my kids swing by the island on their way to the dining room table (which is my grandmother’s and on loan from my mother) where the food and plates are sitting and waiting – I am reminded of my husband’s love – and how blessed we are to have those unique pieces from our past to feed the masses before us and I think our grandparents live on – through us.
We sit around the table every single night. There might be three of us, there might be seven us, or more, but every night we sit around the table, we bow our heads and pray, and then we eat, and talk, and laugh. Sometimes it is a quiet night (I would like to think it is because the food is so good), and sometimes it seems there is more talking than eating, but MOST importantly, the TV is off, we are together without distractions and if someone needs to talk, they know we are there to listen.
We are blessed. I hope you are too.
