Sharon Kennedy: Two weeks of Christmas dishes
Every December, I get out my Christmas dishes. Over the years I’ve purchased miscellaneous sets from various places because dishes are my weakness. I easily ignore jewelry, exotic perfumes and all electronic gadgets, but put dishes before me and my knees turn to rubber. My love of dishware began when I was young. Every summer Aunt Marie and her husband drove from their home in Detroit to Brimley.
They always brought gifts and boxes filled with odds and ends, but the only things I recall are the dishes. The intricate designs and English bone china always fascinated me. Uncle Francis was from Massachusetts. He considered farm people unrefined so every July we received stuff guaranteed to give our kitchen table a little class.
Aunt Marie was Mom’s older sister and wanted her to have the best of everything and that included dishes. Ours were a little on the sorry side. Some were cracked, some chipped, no two matched and all had seen better days. When Mom married Dad, she didn’t have far to move. Her home was directly across the road from Dad’s. I imagine she brought a few special things with her, but the contents of her new cupboard belonged to Gram.
On one of her yearly trips, Aunt Marie gave Mom a complete set of matching dishware. Great care was taken to keep them looking like new. They graced our table only during major holidays. Afterwards we carefully washed, wrapped and returned them to their boxes. Then it was back to the old beige plates, Peter Pan glasses and enormous white cups.
It’s funny how something as simple as a fancy dish can stir a kid’s imagination. At some point in my childhood, I decided I would never set a table with mismatched dishes, and I silently declared war on ugly white cups from Kresge’s. I was determined to set a table as stylish and memorable as my aunt’s.
My sister and I visited her in 1959. It was our first Greyhound bus trip and as two bumpkins it didn’t take much to excite us. I don’t remember our reaction as we crossed the Mighty Mac, but I do recall our amazement at the fee involved in using the bus terminal restrooms. For a dime, the toilet was all ours. Luckily, seasoned travelers were among the group and held the door open. One-by-one we avoided the charge and left our deposits.
Aunt Marie owned a comfortable two-family brick home on Stoepel Street. She and Uncle Francis lived downstairs and a widowed school teacher and her son rented the upstairs. As a country kid, I had no knowledge of city homes. My aunt’s house looked like a palace. As well as a kitchen nook, there was a separate dining room with a china cabinet filled with two Bavarian tea sets. My fate was sealed.
Over the years my dish inventory grew. Some sets were Royal Doulton fine bone china. Others were purchased from K-Mart, Goodwill, Salvation Army and yard sales. If I entertained, my table would be worthy of a photo spread in Country Living magazine. But I don’t entertain anymore, and my dishes were so special I never used them so I sold all but the Christmas ones. I get them out, alright, but I stack them next to my supply of paper plates.
Like my aunt, collecting dishes was my hobby. Unlike her, using them was an entirely different story.
— To contact Sharon Kennedy, send her an email at authorsharonkennedy.com. Kennedy's new book, "View from the SideRoad: A Collection of Upper Peninsula Stories," is available from her or Amazon.
This article originally appeared on The Sault News: Sharon Kennedy: Two weeks of Christmas dishes
