A Warm Cloak of Love

Dear Frank,

Here’s the story of some surprise gifts we received and how the impact of the heartfelt happenings behind those gifts has remained with me to this day. Before I give you the details, I’ll share with you the story behind them.

Recently, while setting the table, I thought of how I came to have the objects I was placing. Once used by the kind, strong women in my life, I thought about those hands that had admiringly held these things over the years.  

To say that the daily doings of my mother, grandmother, aunts and sister have played a role in who I am is an understatement. Much of my memories are of how they put together family meals and gatherings. It’s clear that the process of planning and executing a lovely occasion to share good food and good conversation is and has always been an important endeavor.

The cover photo was taken in my sister Ann’s home, using a mix of Mother’s china, Ann’s silver, along with some of her other lovely items. They remind me of a time while growing up, when on the nights before a dinner party, Mother (in one of her always-exquisite nightgowns) would get in bed with piles of cookbooks all around. I’d snuggle up to watch her face as she joyfully described how well each sumptuous dish would go with the next. The day before the party, flowers, napkins, tablecloth, crystal, china, and silver would all come forth. Each moment in the process held a tiny celebration of their beauty. 

It was a series of such happy activities: Out the kitchen door and to the backyard Mother would go with great anticipation, grasping her clippers, ready to find just the right greenery and blooms. Then, back inside, she didn’t deliberate too much as she placed stems in a vase one by one, saying they’d all come together beautifully without much thought, and she was right. Today, decades later, I know that the less I work on an arrangement and the more spontaneous I am, makes for the most exquisite results.

Now, to tell you about a seriously serendipitous occasion that happened. To me, it epitomizes just how lovely a giving spirit can present itself. I was 10 years old when my parents were divorced. We left our little town to move to the city, doing it quickly, without packing much of the keepsakes my mother had collected for so long. As a matter of fact, I didn’t know we were leaving until a little friend told me so, as we sat on the sidewalk playing jacks in front of Grandmother’s house on Chilton Street. Soon after, while Mother loaded the car at our house, she said we could go inside and pick one thing to take with us. I hurried straight to the living room and on the table right beside that pretty velvet sofa sat a little porcelain bee box from Limoge, France. I loved it. Off I carried it, cradled carefully in my hand. (Little did I know that collecting boxes would become one of my favorite things to do.)

We didn’t go back to that town, Marlin, and didn’t see my father but a few times that first year, then none at all after that. Years later, after Mother went to heaven, I wondered about her cherished things left there. I tried hard to remember what they looked like. What were the things she loved? 

One day, many, many years later, and after the death of my father, we met and came to love the “other” family created from his second marriage: two half-brothers, and their mother, Betty. And later, in one truly joyful and memorable visit with them, we saw that Betty had a surprise for us. Would you believe it, there they were. Betty had found Mother’s china and silver in a trunk there on Lake Lane, in the house where Mother had raised our family, and later, where Betty had raised hers. We marveled over it all, and it took me back to those days growing up. Mother had been so lovely; these things were so lovely.

Life had come full circle and all the warmth of those times years ago descended on me like a sweet cloak of love from heaven. Colorful and elegant (just like Mama) Ming Rose by Minton, her china, and the ornate floral design of Gorham Cambridge silver was her flatware. So fitting, given her style. I think about how this happened, how they are now adorning my table. Yes, objects are just objects, but if they evoke such splendid memories as these do, they certainly serve a deep and valuable purpose. 

In the midst of this precious scene, my mind and heart swirled as I thought about what Betty had done. Much more than a simple gesture, Betty had done something so extraordinarily loving and thoughtful, like the kind woman she is. How far-reaching are the simple acts of a loving spirit. 

I, too, don’t want to miss the occasions in life when I can make a lasting impact and perhaps provide that warm cloak of love for those around me. Thank you to my mother Gladys, grandmother Allie, my sister, Ann, along with my Aunts Amy, Mattie, and Fannie, and to Betty, whose kind act brought forth all those important and sweet memories.

PS. Frank, because of my love of china, you’ll never believe what I bought recently, in your honor! I have 8 froggy salad plates. Each depicts an adorable little green frogger who looks just like you. It’s time, isn’t it, to prepare for a Frank the Frog dinner party! 

Love you,

Jane