How a Junior Spoon Made Me Cry
Now this may be an example of unnecessary accumulation of material goods, but we have two sets of dishes, including silverware, one set for every day, another for special occasions. I call it silverware but it is stainless steel. Our everyday things are French and the special ones are American. Our set of silver—Oneida stainless—was a gift from my mother when my husband and I were engaged. Friends of the family, her best friends before my parents got married, gave us the chest it’s kept in. When we had children, she sent baby sets which are a small fork and spoon. A little while later, she sent a junior set which is a medium-sized knife, fork and spoon.
Yesterday at tea-time, my husband fixed us each a cup and got out a “good “ spoon since all the ordinary ones were in the dishwasher. That’s a junior spoon, I said. No response. That’s a junior spoon, I repeat. I realize he is not hearing what I am saying which is—my mother got that when the boys were small and I was counting on our grandchildren using them, but the one we have lives so far away, he hasn’t been here yet and he’s already too big to use the baby set and when we die, the house will probably be cleared by a recycler and no one will ever even know what this stuff is, …. Boo-hoo-hoo…………. Do you know about my great-grandmother’s necklace? I ask. No, he replies, but I get the feeling I soon will.
These sorts of things are transmitted in the off-hand comments of everyday life which is not being shared due to distance. Maybe I should put labels on everything? Or stop putting so much emotional weight into physical objects.
Pondering all this at breakfast, I notice a sparrow carrying rose petals. Madame Alfred Carrière (a white rose tinged with pink, nicely perfumed) is contributing nesting materials? Sometimes even little birds have luxury.
Here you can see small, medium, and large settings,
with the added bonus of other spoons—serving, holey, soup and demi-tasse.
(click to enlarge)