Etiquetteer was delighted to hear from a reader about the passage of heirlooms through her family. (This has been lightly edited to disguise identifying references.)
Dear Etiquetteer:
I enjoy your column immensely and can't believe your inbox would be empty — so here I am to fill it up. I must tell you that I think of you often — every time I rearrange the generations of family china, crystal and silver collection that I curate — ever since I read your column on the celery dish.
Last week my daughter and I . . . moved the corner cupboard! This meant I had to unload the entire thing, move it and reload. To handle every piece was a privilege. While enjoying this task, my daughter tentatively asked if she could have one of THE cups! The story of the cups is nearly 90 years old. Each summer, my grandmother would make the drive from Michigan, pass into Canada, buy one Aynsley Orchard teacup and saucer in cobalt blue, and then continue on past Niagara Falls to their summer home. In the family, these pieces of her collection are coveted.
As I am in the de-acquisition phase of my life, I was happy to let my daughter choose several pieces to adopt into her life. She arrived home with them, promptly set the table and Facetimed me (well past my bedtime) to show me her table setting. It was lovely and so fun to see them in her care. But she is a worrier — like her mother — and immediately began to search for a cabinet in which to display them. She was so afraid that they might be broken if left in the open.
There must be some sort of magic in those teacups to inspire driving long distances, crossing international borders and vast expanses of water. My lovely grandmother, whom I never met, is found in those lovely items she left for me. If not for those cups, I might not feel as though I know her as well as I do.
So, there is my silly little story. Not very important in light of the crisis gripping our world, but a backward glance every once in a while lets me know that life will continue. This wonderful lady, survived the flu pandemic [of 1918] and told my father tales of seeing dead bodies lying in the street in Washington D.C. After that, she went on to collect . . . tea cups. Perhaps we will be able to concern ourselves with these types of trivial fancies again in our futures.
Dear Reader:
You cannot know how much your letter warmed the cockles of Etiquetteer’s heart, so sadly is it tried by the current, collapsing state of Perfect Propriety. Etiquetteer is fortunate enough to have a houseful of heirlooms from Dear Grandmother. But unlike her, and like your daughter it seems, Etiquetteer actually uses them and enjoys using them. Etiquetteer enjoys nothing so much as a Perfectly Proper cup of tea in one of these special cups. Uncle Paxton analyzed it exactly in Clemence Dane’s frothy but ponderous novel The Flower Girls: “Tea drunk from Meissen or Davenport is totally different beverage from tea poured from stoneware or plastic.”
Etiquetteer hopes that we might all enjoy a Perfectly Proper cup together someday.
