My grandmother was firm. “They’re for you. We always wanted you to have them”
A few years later, we moved and finally had more space, but because I’m a minimalist — or like to think of myself as one — I politely tried to defer again.
My grandmother was firm. “They’re for you. We always wanted you to have them.”
That settled it. We loaded the quilted cases of dishes into our van and took them across the George Washington Bridge with us.
On a visit, Grandpa told us the story of the dishes as he drank black coffee. He recounted how as a newly married man, he worked as a salesman for a company called Easy Glitter. The company ran a contest: The employee who sold the most car wax would receive a set of bone-china dishes. Grandpa won, and the dishes were packed away, cherished for 60 years, because they were too special to use. My grandparents moved from Brighton Beach to North Woodmere to Hewlett, taking these dishes with them.
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