Let me start with a disclaimer.
I generally took everything my mother-in-law said the wrong way.
It's true. A big part of that was my insecurity. After all, Earle's father was the head of the New York Coffee and Sugar Exchange and my mother-in-law, Eileen, lived within sight of New York City and traveled with him all over the world on his business trips. In addition, she was trim and tasteful. She defined fashion in her time, studying at the French Fashion Academy and even publishing in Women's Wear Daily. She preferred the classics: cashmere, camel hair, houndstooth, and Ferragamos. She entertained, she wined and dined, she country-clubbed.
In contrast, I was the daughter of a farmer from a town with less than 600 people, pets and farm animals included.
Of course, the other part of why I took things the wrong way were, ahem, clears throat, the actual things themselves. The best example of this was
"You shouldn't feel self conscious on the beach! There are plenty of women out here fatter than you are."
Ah, you see the dilemma.
So there was a big piece of me that felt like I just wasn't "good enough" in her books. She was constantly buying things she thought we needed, often when we had deliberately chosen otherwise. When I married I opted not to pick out a fine china patterns as I didn't want my guests to incur unncessary expense when gifting. Nor did I want the chore of handwashing or storing china or the risk of breakage! Keep It Simple, Sweetheart. Right?
So Eileen gave me a full set of elegant china. It looks lovely in my purchased-for-the-sole-reason-of-storing-that-china china cabinet and to this day it has never been used.
And that's how it went. Over the years, the parade of (very generous!) gifts included crystal, pots and pans, towels, bedding, tableclothes, linen napkins, kitchen appliances, kitchen appliances, kitchen appliances. And as I thanked her for each and every gift with a smile and a hug a piece of me said "Am I not enough?" "Is our home not enough?"
One year, Mom was so proud to give us TWO FULL SETS OF TURKEY DISHES. Yes, 12 place settings, bowls, gravy bowl, etc. Boxes upon boxes upon boxes to open, transport, store, wash, use, and lug up and down our stairs to a bin under the eves. And I dutifully drug them out, year after year, armloads and armloads, to be wrestled into the dishwasher in preparation for their use at one meal a year.
I did not do this task with grace.
I am ashamed to remember the very indignity of my attitude about these plates.They felt so excessive, so cumbersome, so, well, just kind of, ridiculous. Dishes for a single meal?And my slavish devotion to using them to please my mother-in-law was also part of my teeth gnashing irritation.
But then, last January, we unexpectedly lost Eileen. The following Thanksgiving, for once. I chose to use my Fiestaware, selecting the orange, red and yellow pieces to lend an autumn flair to my dining room table. It was undoubtedly easier and just much more my style. Keep it Simple. Spend time on people, not things.
But now, a year and what feels like a lifetime later, I see those plates for what they actually were to my mother-in-law: a way to celebrate family, to honor and elevate Thanksgiving traditions, to have something her own family could not have afforded in her youth. They are the holders of warm, nourshing food over which even warmer words are spoken. They help make our house our home, which, whether intentionally or unintentionally, is colored by our prior generations. And which in turn will color the homes of our own children.
Even if, upon my demise, the turkey dishes one day go to the thrift store for a second chance at life.
So this Thanksgiving, Eileen, I'm thankful for you. For your attention to detail, your generosity, your elegance, your taste and your style. And for your efforts, all of them, to turn me into a better hostess and homemaker. Which though it sounds painfully anti-feminist it is instead, a way to say that you hoped to help me establish a warm and welcoming home. And that is, Eileen, a noble goal indeed.
