Old Dishes

My mom has a dozen off the most unique and beautiful plates I’ve ever seen. Her father—my grandpa— bought them for her when she was newly married. They were wandering around the Jewish section of New York City when Mom saw the big, dark-blue plates with scenes of people in the woods, on the mountains, farming, and other outdoor settings. The details are slightly raised and hand painted. Mom wanted these plates, which are about one-third larger than normal dinner plates and were designed to hang on the wall, for Thanksgiving. Her father bought them for her. We ate off them just once that I remember, back when I was a little girl. Using those plates felt so special. Recently Mom asked if I wanted the set. Do I ever! We live far apart, she in Indianapolis and I in Seattle, so she’s having them carefully wrapped and shipped to me.

I plan to use them more often than Mom did. But what if we chip one? That’s a fear I have. My grandpa wouldn’t want me to worry about that. He’d say what he always used to say, “Use them in the best of health.” And I will, but carefully.

They’ll have to be hand-washed, too, but that’s a small price to pay. The warmth I feel from this gift is deep and lovely. I’ve never considered myself sentimental, but I guess I am. It’ll be as if my grandpa, who died in 1976, were here with us.

Anyone out there feel sentimental about certain inanimate objects? Please share your stories because I’d love to know I’m not alone.

Ann Roth
It Happened One Wedding, April, 2007
Another Life, April, 2007
www.annroth.net