I wrote this entry in November (2010) and for some reason that escapes me, I decided not to publish it. But today, in looking it over and doing some fix-ups, it seems okay to share.
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I sent a note to Kathy and Mark (my brother) on the evening of Thanksgiving after looking at pictures of their grandchildren, Yana and Max on Fbook. I hadn't seen pictures of either of them for a while. Max has always looked like Jamie, and Yana somewhat like Oksana. That's still the case, with Yana looking even more like her mom than the last time I saw pictures of her. In the course of writing back and forth, Kathy told me that she and Mark hosted Thanksgiving dinner for her family, 15 people in all, and they'd used Grandma Bene's china, a cause for some nostalgia on their part.
As a guess, I would say that I ate at least 40 Thanksgiving dinners from those plates. Add to that a multitude of Christmas and Easter feasts, all enjoyed from those dishes. And of course, I washed, dried, and put away Mom's "good china" countless times over the years.
As much as my teenage self cringed at the sound a fork made when I moved it along the surface of Mom's dishes (dry and scratchy), and as much as I thought the pattern was old-ladyish back then, my adult self felt differently. As an adult, I thought of those plates as part of going home for the holidays and spending time with my parents and siblings, and with Grandma Kirsch, who brought enthusiasm and a lemon Jello mold to every family event. And talking with Uncle Mike, who loved Buicks and couldn't tolerate even a tiny speck of fat on meat, which he humorously reminded my dad about as Dad carved the holiday ham. Uncle Mike was the only family member who actually called Elisabeth "Lisa", which had been our intent until she was born, and we saw that she was most definitely Elisabeth. That has nothing to do with holidays or table settings. Thinking about Uncle Mike reminded me of it.
Back to the dishes. I have some "good china" that I bought gradually and also got as gifts from Grandma Bene in the first 10 years Larry/Dad/Gpappy and I were married. We used the dishes from time to time, but now we never use them even though I love the pattern and the smooth feel of a fork crossing their surface. It's likely a carry-over from my Grandma Kirsch, who used her "good" possessions sparingly, and even covered the sofa and upholstered chair seats with plastic so they wouldn't get dirty. Good lord, what would happen if I chipped a bowl? Oops.
Someday when the kids clean out our house for good, they'll look at my "good china" dishes and wonder where in the hell they came from and why we never used them. So kids, here's a look at the pattern. Maybe I can trick you into thinking we they were on the table at all of our holiday dinners!
