My mother never had pretty dinnerware, nor did she ever have a single piece of China. We ate off melamine plates where the coating eventually bubbled up and flaked off, or unremarkable stoneware with forgettable designs in the 70's colors of brown, gold, and avocado. Mother was never frivolous in decorating and looking back I realize that even when I was a child, she preferred masculine designs and practicality over anything truly feminine. But when I was eighteen, I thought she 'settled' for 'dull' and I wanted to do something nice for her.
My first decent paying job was working in the petroleum industry with my then soon-to-be spouse in Louisiana. Every Friday night we'd head to Ruston for groceries and it was at a particular grocery store that I found a 'deal'. The deal was to spend a set minimum of dollars that would in turn allow you to purchase one Johann Haviland Dinner Set of Bavarian, Germany China a week for something like five dollars. (Dinner plate, salad plate, fruit bowl, tea cup and cup saucer). Mother's favorite color was blue and she preferred silver over gold, so this set touched my heart. Over the course of eight weeks I was able to buy eight Dinner Sets and at Christmas of 1981, this was my gift to her. She seemed to genuinely like them and I felt satisfied that I'd given her something really pretty.
Over the course of the next six years, I never saw the China. She didn't have a China hutch, so it wasn't surprising. But in 1987, she and Daddy bought an old house on a beautiful piece of land and someone built her shelving in the kitchen. For the first time, she displayed the China. The shelves were high up on the ten foot walls, and this is where the China sat, undisturbed, for close to twenty-eight years, give or take. It was never dusted, never washed, and certainly never used.
And then the day came when she and Daddy moved from that house and in the process, she asked if I wanted the China back. She said she had nowhere to put it and if I wanted it, I could have it. Of course I took it! I brought it home, washed it, and then? I put it out of sight in cabinets because I didn't have a cabinet or hutch to display it. Some years later, we moved, and again, the China was hidden in cabinets for a time.
In 2023 I found an antique China cabinet and hutch, and for the first time, I had a place to display my China. The only problem was, I also had a more complete set of my mother-in-law's China to display and the hutch was a bit crowded. But, I did what I could and both were displayed.
In early 2025, my husband and I decided that where our present home is located is not an area that either of us wish to spend our final years. Our plan is to sell this property and move elsewhere, and at that time he will retire. These plans, as well as the knowledge that we abhor the act of moving, led me to start 'purging'.
I started in my closet: If it didn't fit well, toss it. If I'd not worn it in a year, toss it. If it was ugly, toss it. Next would be my what-nots, books, music CDs, DVDs, and so on. I tackled our storage shed as well. To date, I've carried 15 car loads of stuff to the local donation center. And then came the kitchen.
I had a stack of assorted stoneware, three partial sets to be exact. One I loved, but a child of mine had broken a ten piece set down to four plates. Another was a partial set I don't even recall when or where I acquired. The last was a hand-me-down set, and while pretty, they were all chipped and held no sentimental value. My goal was to donate all of these plates and purchase Corelle plates. Corelle, while not the prettiest plates, are light-weight and durable. But, for some reason, I held off donating any. My reasoning was that I'd donate all these plates just as soon as I could afford to buy the Corelle plates, but until then, I'd keep them.
Then came the China. My now late-mother-in-law's China isn't going anywhere. It's a very pretty and complete set, and it means a lot to my husband. It might someday mean a lot to our daughters or granddaughters. But the set I bought for my mother? Several of the cups were cracked and though I am a coffee and tea drinker, the cups were just too dainty and small for me. And while I didn't love the idea of donating the set, it was now mine to do with whatsoever I wanted.
Two weeks ago I was getting everything out of the cabinets to do just that, and I wrapped and boxed the cups and saucers first. Next I picked up a plate and was about to wrap it when I stopped. It was a beautiful plate. It felt 'right' in my hands. I loved the way it felt. I put it down and picked up the small fruit bowl. I had the same feeling: It was beautiful, it felt right, and I loved the way it felt. I had the same reaction with the salad plate. I put the dish down and opened the cabinet where the stack of mismatched stoneware plates sat. I took one of each of the three designs down. I looked at them, I held them, and you know what I felt? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I looked back at the China plates and I smiled.
Why not? Why the heck not?
Forty-four years ago, in the fall of 1981, I saw these beautiful plates and I loved the thought of giving my Momma something pretty. Forty-four years ago I accomplished that goal. Then the day came when she gave them back to me, a gift I'd failed to realize.
I asked myself, 'What good are gifts that remain hidden, never used?'
On that day I donated all of the stoneware minus four plates that I kept for nuking. That night, for the first time in forty-four years, my China was used for a meal. It's been two weeks now and my China is used for every meal, and every single time I grab a plate, I feel...HAPPY! Genuinely HAPPY!
Sometimes you just have to use the good China!
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