It is time to admit something publicly:
For awhile after we got married, my husband and I only used our Wedgewood china for occasional dinner parties.
I'm ashamed, but it is true. I decided that dishes people had given us as gifts were somehow too precious, too good to use. What if they got broken? Chipped!? If the gilt edge…wore OFF!!!! DISASTER!
My husband's family has a phrase for this. You may have heard it. It applies to special feast day food, and gets pulled out at annual gatherings. Children often hear it, at that time before the clock strikes the appointed dinner-hour, but well after the children's stomachs are growling and their mouths are watering from amazing kitchen smells:
Don't eat that! That's for people!
THAT'S FOR PEOPLE.
(Not you. You are not people. You are not good enough to be "people.").
A phrase that translates to:
You may not use and enjoy your own dishes because you are not special enough for these dishes.
You do not deserve the gift of these dishes…you may only protect them, but not enjoy them.
After I had been married for awhile, I was invited to the home of an amazingly "perfect" couple. They had fallen in love and married when they were a bit older. It was a second marriage for one of them. When the time came to serve food, I noticed (because I am fond of beautiful things) their divine, all white, dishes. Plates, serving pieces, all white, and very fine, with delicious, subtle, botanical designs, and that melodic ringing sound as plates were picked up and set down.
"What lovely china," I said, admiring it.
"Isn't it wonderful!" my hostess said, genuinely looking at it and appreciating it anew herself. "We bought all white so that we could eat off of it and enjoy it every day. It makes me so happy to use it all the time. I reminded my husband to buy all the extra pieces so that we had a complete set before the style was discontinued, along with a few extra pieces…but we haven't had many break, have we, Darling…?"
And as she shared a moment of wonder and joy with her husband - about their everyday dishes - I thought of my china:
Tucked in dark cupboards.
Unrecognizable shapes in bubble wrap.
Or zipped up in padded, specially designed, quilted china covers.
(A small piece of foam in between each plate, bowl, and cup…serving pieces in the original plastic, for extra protection).
Bored, waiting China.
China despairing of ever being used.
Our china pattern, Persia, had seen only small dinner parties. We had a small wedding that we paid for ourselves, and we were not gifted a generous table of very expensive china. Despite small numbers, the few parties where we pulled out the china had been merry, and fun. The rich, burnt orange design included stylized pheasant and leopards that lent a bit of excitement to the parties. Eating the food off of our china revealed intricate designs and possibly even imagined vignettes.
I can count the dinners, and retell the tales because they are so few: A Corned beef dinner on St. Patrick's Day. An improvised community dinner of soup that got extended and extended and extended with cans of whatever from the cupboard as the numbers of people swelled. We ran out of the good china, and had to use old one-off dishes instead, but no one seemed to mind. At all of the parties there was much admiration of the china.
After our most recent move, I decided it was ridiculous to covet my own china. I should commit to it. Complete my set. Use it.
Despite reminders when the pattern was discontinued, my husband did not spend thousands of dollars to acquire a full set for twelve to sit for dinner. Our dining table could only hold eight, so eight was a good enough number. With eight settings, and some extra dessert plates, we put all the china in an easily accessible cupboard and vowed to use it.
That intention soon faded. Hand-washing fine, fancy dishes, when there's a dishwasher right there is not fun.
Today I have a cupboard full of very plain, dishwasher safe, white dishes. I have a second cupboard full of fine china. I pull it out when we run out of everyday dishes.
I covet the space my china is taking up in my cupboards. I dream of the money I could make selling off all the fancy china. I imagine reclaiming the cupboard space.
Every once in awhile I pull out a very pretty dish to eat off of. More often than not, I put it in the dishwasher when I'm done. Who cares about the gilt edge coming off? What good is ANY object if it is neither utilized nor admired?
No good at all, I now think. It might as well be given away, sold, or smashed. If it was a gift, the sin of under-utilization is even worse: not using the gift, not appreciating it on a daily basis is an insult to the giver.
I want to learn from my china to look carefully. Decide wisely. I don't want any gifts in my home too good to use! I deserve all of the beautiful things I have been given out of love. I refuse to keep food around that can only be eaten by people! I'm all the PEOPLE that matter, and if you are a guest in my house, if it is good enough for me, it is good enough for you.
I have outgrown a tendency I was somehow taught to preserve and protect objects. I strive to learn now to desire no object so precious that it loses its usefulness or its ability to bring me joy. If it cannot be used, or it is painful, I will take a picture of it, and get rid of it. Make a scrapbook of the objects I have loved, write about WHY I loved them. Why I coveted them as if they were not mine, because I wouldn't let myself enjoy them…even when they belonged to me.
