Honoring Memories of the Women Before Me
Words by Danni Brigante // Image by Sarah Hartley
The texts came from my Aunt three days before my birthday:
AUNT: These were Nona’s – unfortunately…there isn’t a whole set, but they could be a nice set for everyday dishes. They are rimmed in silver or even platinum.
DANNI: They are gorgeous.
AUNT: And they are yours!
Image by Danni Brigante
And a few days later, poof! They were dropped off while I was at work, along with my birthday gift – a beautiful glass jewelry box with a shell in the lid, also from my Nona.
As I was inventorying and re-packing the set (definitely not 100% complete but considering they survived a move from New York to Florida, then shipping from Florida back up to New York, an impressive inventory), my mother laughed.
“Your Grandma had the same dishes, but hers were rimmed in gold. They are packed up for you in the basement for when you’re ready for your own place.”
I’ve amassed a treasure trove of kitchen stuff – awesome pint glasses with some of my favorite characters, workhorse small appliances, enough mugs to warrant another purge for donation – but my best things are the ones I didn’t pick out for myself.
I have 2 mostly complete sets of formal dishes from my grandmothers packed up and stored away. In storage, I have a set of tiny dessert silverware in their original cases that were my Grandma’s, as well as her demitasse set. And my every day silverware came from a bonus Grandma, who had been a family friend.
I never quite understood the concept of having a set of everyday dishes and a set of formal dishes. I know that picking out china and flatware patterns was (is?) a thing as people got married, but then the china winds up packed away and only used a few times a year? If I’ve taken the time to pick out something beautiful with my partner, why wouldn’t I want to use it all the time?
I can see how there is a practicality aspect to some of these things. When I was married, my ex and I were gifted with his grandparents wedding china. It was a full formal set of dishes, bowls, cups and saucers that his grandfather purchased in Japan while he was stationed there after World War II. All of the pieces were stamped with “Made in Occupied Japan” and I absolutely loved them because of their history.
Obviously, they weren’t dishwasher- and microwave-safe, and other than maybe three or four occasions, they stayed packed in the hutch in our dining room.
Nona and Grandma’s dishes have a metal rim – definitely not microwave-safe. They probably shouldn’t go in a dishwasher either, but at this point in their existence, I don’t think anyone will mind too much. They are DISHES. They were made to be used.
One of my favorite pieces of writing is an essay by Erma Bombeck after she had been diagnosed with cancer. She talks about the things she wished she had done as she looks back on her life: the rose shaped candle she wished she had burned before it melted in storage. The beautiful things she had owned and only used on special occasions, or with company.
She lamented not being able to truly enjoy pieces and things that she had loved because she saved them for the “right time.” It’s so very easy to lose perspective in the pressures of every day life.
When my partner and I are ready to make our home together, my Nona and Grandma’s formal dishes will be in our cabinets. My bonus Grandma’s silverware will be in our silverware drawer. The demitasse set and the dessert silverware will have their own easily accessible places as well.
What better way to honor the memories of these amazing women than by sharing meals on pieces they had picked out and had used to feed their own family and guests?
I’m so excited to use them to host dinner parties and holidays. I’m more excited to use them to enjoy takeout tacos with my partner and his son. I’m even excited to argue over whose turn it is to do the washing up afterward, and whether it’s best to wipe any stray sauce off the dish with a napkin or run it under the tap before loading the dishwasher.
We lost my Grandma when I was still a baby, so I don’t remember her. My Nona passed when I was 15, and my bonus Grandma passed when I was 30. I’m so lucky to be able to remember them as I build my own memories and traditions within my own little family.
And I’m so very excited to use the good dishes.
About the Author:
Danni Brigante spent their childhood being recognized because they look just like their mother. And their aunts. They write fiction and blog about everyday life through the lens of mental health issues. Danni lives in New York and is working with their partner toward a beautiful happily ever after.
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