I have an affinity for old stuff. I like stuff that has a story to tell, stuff that reminds me of times past, people who have passed and ways of living that are no longer around. I like to look at my grandmother’s cook stove in the corner of my dining room, the spinning wheel that my brother made in high school shop class, old sewing machines like the one on which I learned to sew.
After dinner last night, I was thinking and asking myself what good thing stood out in my memory of the day. I had done some adventurous cooking and invited my “pod” of family over to eat – that, of course, was a very good thing. It was a satisfying feeling which lasted all the way through kitchen clean-up and dish washing. There on the counter, waiting to be dried and put away, was my pile of washed flatware. I can legitimately call it silverware because it is silver plated.
The set has been with me for years. It’s been present at so many holiday dinners, birthdays, and family special occasions that it is a true memory holder. Never mind the spoon that got caught in the disposal, or the little bit of tarnish on a few forks. It is a beautiful set, simple enough to be pleasing to me (I’m not a fancy girl), a gift from my mother (found by the garage sale queen). It came at a time when I was mourning the loss of all my tableware during our move to Florida, so it’s first role was as a comforter. It started my love of vintage silverware and I’ve collected odd pieces here and there ever since. It’s made by Oneida in a style called Queen Bess II from 1946. True old stuff.
Polishing silver is not my favorite thing to do, but I’ve found that if I use it often, it doesn’t need to be polished as much. It likes to be used, and I like to use it. And there it lay, an aftermath of another family connection around the table. Just looking at it made me feel good. There is a unique kind of beauty in “old stuff”, and I’m thinking, as I get older, that’s a good thing to know.