On the Eight Day of a Feminine Christmas

My grandmother had the loveliest china and she was quite proud of it.  Probably because she bought it herself, piece by piece, at RH Stearns in Boston.  And she used pin money which was money she saved, also piece by piece, from household funds.  Nana Mac loved fine things and she wasn’t about to let her life as a wife to a furniture salesman keep her from having the most beautiful china in the world.  I am now the steward of her pretty dishes and I use them often.

But back in 1981, brides were eschewing acquisitions of traditional nuptial accoutrements such as crystal, silver and china.  I had selected some contemporary everyday stoneware at the department store where I registered for gifts.  And although she didn’t say so, I think my grandmother was disappointed.  She never had a traditional wedding because she married during the depression.  She wouldn’t have considered registering for gifts because no one had any money to buy them.  That was when she set about acquiring her own things for her life with my grandfather.

I, on the other hand, had an opportunity to tell our family and friends exactly what I wanted.  For the most part, I blended my traditional esthetic with my soon-to-be-husband’s contemporary taste and this meant classic old-fashioned china was out of the picture.  But I think because my grandmother’s china had come to her through sacrifice, the Christmas before I married, she handed me the sparkly little card above with a $100 bill inside where she had unabashedly written, “Now you can start your china”.

I framed the notecard a few years ago under sun-protected glass and it hangs in my upstairs hallway all year long.  I love the sparkles and the simplicity of the horse-drawn sleigh in the snow.  But I especially love my grandmother’s message – the gentle nudging to do something traditional – something she really, really wanted for me.  And just after Christmas that year, I chose Royal Copenhagen’s Tranquebar, a watery-blue china pattern with tea cups the same shape as the ones in Nana’s lovely rose-colored Adam’s Lowestoft.

She was pleased…