China hutch

The same china hutch that is sitting in the corner of my one hundred year old farm kitchen today sat in my mother’s formal colonial dining room in the seventies and in my grandmother’s coastal craftsman style house in the fifties. The delicately rounded glass sides gives the illusion of fragility but I know it is tougher than it looks. I have witnessed many chair bangs, toddler trips and interstate moves in the fifty plus years I have known this piece of furniture and it has not sustained one crack.  Not to say that there haven't been setbacks. The beautiful old skeleton key has been lost forever and the mirrors in the back have darkened with age but it continues to house the beautiful and the breakable for generations of table setters.

Elsie kept her set of Spode pink tower china along with her collection of violet adorned dishes and cups in it. Grandma Elsie was the first of her friends to rebelliously bob her hair in the twenties and one of the few women who had a career in the prestigious government buildings in the forties.  Her smoker’s cackle, keen mind and black sensible shoes were in stark contrast to her pink, flowery china and her penchant for small, dainty violets. This fondness for the soft and sweet reflected a part of her I only ever saw in her china preferences. I remember her signature creamed spinach in the shallow pink soup bowls that I wish I still had. The bowls, not so much the spinach.

Beverley kept her “Sunday only” dishes and Irish Waterford crystal in the china hutch.  The dishes were gold rimmed and formal, showing Mom’s desire to remind herself that she was now a woman of means and not the poor daughter of a philandering used car salesman and a sharp tongued, working mother. The hand me down pieces from Elsie were kept on the lowest shelf and only used for utilitarian purposes. The hutch was in the formal dining room. A room devoted to large formal gatherings. The table was large, the window looking out on the rose garden was large and we always had beautiful large floral centerpiece for every holiday. The hutch was a showcase and not merely a storage facility. Her parties were legendary. Eggnog served in crystal punch cups from the crystal punch bowl and tiny rye sandwiches on the crystal treat tower not only indulged but impressed the guests.

I inherited the china hutch along with my mother’s set of Blue Danube dishes in this decade. I also inherited the odd but useful soup tureen from grandma Elsie. It was not of her set and perhaps has an even older history unknown to me and now lost forever.  I also house a plain silver bud vase from my plain quaker-like grandma Irene in it. My father’s mother, Irene, wore exclusively black long sleeved dresses or navy blue long sleeved dresses. It is not surprising that I have no memory or evidence of any table finery from her. The singular bud vase is appropriate to her nature. I have four sizes of crystal goblets from my mother-in-law’s wealthy and scandalous tante Jennie. A different goblet for brandy, port, wine and water.  Childless and frivolous she left much of her finery to my Corel loving mother-in-law.  Holiday dinners are my chance to open the china hutch and bring out not only beautiful china and crystal but beloved memories of my elder women.  My humble mother in law’s extensive dutch silverware with the fish forks and sterling knife rests complete the table. Who knew? The woman who served thanksgiving dinner on sturdy paper plates had boxes of silver and crystal in the garage inherited from her dutch elders.

As I continue to inherit from the generations long dead or long past hosting dinners I notice how cluttered the hutch has become and reflect on the time when I will divvy up the fancy ware to the generations coming up. I am sad my daughter and daughters in laws will never know the sturdy women behind these dainty plates. Like the china hutch, we are stronger than we look. No doubt my children will live through hard times of their own and find their own strengths. They may not have memories of the women whose blood flows in their veins but maybe some morning they will choose my favorite shamrock china mug for their coffee and remember me.