I pull into the driveway right behind my friend and together we head up the little stone sidewalk to where our hostess is holding open the door for us to enter her home. She has rearranged since last I was there, and I like the new setup. Her youngest son is now off to college, and with the passing of her husband's Mom, they are in the process of breaking down her household. A bittersweet task that brings more stuff into her house for sorting and managing.
We sit in the living room and unwind from work, chewing through some things that we are dealing with while the dinner rolls bake. The tantalizing aroma is most mouth watering. We move to the dining room where the table is set with the company-good china. I feel pampered. I seldom sit on the guest side of things!
Entertaining is an joyous activity I have long moved beyond. I have no time, space, or room to entertain. My home is for eating and sleeping of family for the most part. I gave up good china years ago which I thought just as well since I have no formal dining room - or any dining room for that matter.
Ah, those were the days though. As a young girl, I remember setting the table for company. First the tablecloth (I don't even own a table cloth anymore), then getting the good china from the cabinet, and the real silverware. How the room took on sparkle and shine! We knew something special was afoot and couldn't wait to gather with our guests for conversation and a delectable repast - something far batter than the usual hot dogs/hamburgs fare.
I dreamed of entertaining in my own home some day. Like most girls of my era, I began a hope chest, collecting items that would someday grace my own house. I spent hours looking at china patterns, deciding what my table ought to look like. Since I had done cleaning for a number of homes along the silk stocking avenues, I had seen many different patterns and combinations.
Then I discovered that the Main Street furniture store offered a set of Wedgewood Blue Willow china. I fell in love with the extraordinary china set decorated with quaint blue pictures. There were birds flying, boats sailing, willow trees gracefully bending, little houses that looked like Chinese pagodas, tons of intricate border work flowing with Fleur de lis and bricking and all kinds of shapes. I could well envision setting a company table with such wonderful elegant dishes, complete with the matching tablecloth and napkins (real cloth, of course). I decided to collect a complete set. So I began.
I babysat, scrubbed kitchens and bathrooms, vacuumed, washed windows, ran errands, ironed everything imaginable (yes, boxes shorts, handkerchiefs, shirts, pillow cases and sheets were all fair game) and any other task someone would hire a teenage girl to do. At fifty cents an hour, it took awhile to gather enough money for my first plate. I was so thrilled to walk into that store, head held high, clutching my money. I stood gazing at the model set, deciding how to proceed. First I would get a dozen dinner plates. Then I would work on the teacups and saucers, followed by the salad plates, then bowls. Two sizes. And of course, the serving dishes - platters, bowls, the whole works.
I was afraid to calculate what this set of dishes would cost me overall, especially purchasing it piece by piece from a furniture store, sans the benefit of any sales or promotions. But it was a start. Faithfully every week, I entered the store, found the woman who was helping me, and watched while she wrapped the precious plate in tissue paper. I would carry it home tenderly and wrap it in a towel, one waiting for me to embroider my married initial on it, and pack it lovingly in my hope chest, a huge trunk with a metal embossed covering that I spray painted silver (egad, it must have been unbelievably gaudy).
Over time, I did complete 12 place settings with all the various pieces, and was able to get a teapot and 2 serving bowls before I ran out of time and the store stopped carrying my pattern. I held onto that set forever, carefully tucked safely in my hope chest.
After I was married, it remained packed away because we were too poor to entertain for a long time. Then when the children came along, I was afraid to use it for fear it would get broken. All my dreams of being the perfect hostess with the gorgeous table of blue faded into the background of diapers and peanut butter sandwiches. I would never be that lady of leisure, that smiling hostess of the well appointed table.
One day, something inside me snapped. What was I waiting for? Who was more special to me than my own family? I got out my china, washed it thoroughly, and spread the most unusual table of blue for a meal of hot dogs. I giggled as I lit the candle in the middle of the table and called the boys to dinner.
They came bounding to the kitchen (still no dining room) and stopped short, their jaws dropped wide open. No one moved for the longest time. Then they took their places like little gentlemen. Had I known blue dishes created manners, I would have used the china years ago. It was, to say the least, an extraordinary meal.
After that, I discovered that I could pick up all kinds of pretty china at garage sales. I had a pink set, a plain set, a gold edged set, and a cranberry Wedgewood set. I swapped them out on a regular basis, no longer waiting for that special evening. I have even purchase a set or two of Pfaltzgraff dishes at the factory outlet store by Mom's in Lake George.
Now that I have moved so often, I have long since let go of my china sets, including my blue willow set that I had grown tired of. But seeing my friend's beautifully appointed table sparks my interest once again. Perhaps it is time to do a little garage saling and see whether I can find something I like. My plain glass and my blue dishes are fine, but they lack a certain refinement. I'll have to give that some thought.
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