I have a most remarkable set of sterling silver flat wear which I inherited from my grandmother. She was raised in a very wealthy family in Chicago which she left, over their objections, to serve in the Red Cross in World War I. There she met my grandfather, a flyer in that newest branch of the military. After the war she would leave Chicago to follow her new husband to the various Army posts at which he would be stationed. Her family, however, in a last gasp to keep her in Chicago society circles, planned an elaborate wedding which included registering for gifts. Her mother insisted that she needed sterling silver flat wear, a societal nicety which she deemed pointless. She was not interested and, therefore, she chose sight unseen, a pattern called King Albert because he had been a Belgian hero in the just finished war.
When I say remarkable, my grandmother’s family went the whole distance in providing the most comprehensive set of utensils with which to put food to mouth I have ever seen. As an example, I own five sets of spoons (twelve each) including teaspoons, cream soup spoons, demi-tasse spoons, grapefruit spoons, iced tea spoons, and dessert spoons. And just in case you wish to denote, through utensils, the difference between lunch and dinner, I have luncheon forks and knives as opposed to the slightly larger dinner forks and knives. Want some Edam cheese? I have a silver utensil just for that purpose. A cold slice of meat? A fork just for that.
Now we get to the nub of the matter. I have enjoyed owning this piece of family history, and have used it quite a bit over the years. But now my entertaining life is contracting along with my height. But even more than using this silver, it has been the history these items represented that has brought the most joy. I have a picture of this grandmother in her Red Cross cape and hat looking out at the camera with what one can see is a determination to go her own way. While she was raised to know which fork to pick up with which course at dinner, she had no interest in owning any of it.
And neither do my children. The most frequently heard observation, made with a note of disbelief, is, “But you have to polish it?” Well, yes you do, something I have done for years without thinking much about it. But this next generation is now living lives completely different from mine, and certainly from my grandmother’s. And the last thing she would want would be to burden them with owning something for which they have no use.
And I, in my turn, have to give up the idea that these forks, knives and spoons will pass on to eager recipients. And there is a good lesson for me in that. My grandmother is not in the extensive silver flat wear, nor yet in the silver tea service set that sits in my dining room. (Yes, I have that too.) She is, and always will remain, in very safe keeping in my heart, and no sterling silver pie server can dislodge her from there.