Because it really is personal…

Last night I got a box from the BoxMan. Hopefully not the same Boxman so rudely mooned by #3, but given the size of this town he probably was. Isn’t it fun to get a box? Especially when you aren’t expecting one. This was a big box, too, and heavy. The return address belongs to my grandparents, which means there was just NO telling what’s inside.

Grandmother is in the process of Downsizing. She hopes, prays, and crosses her fingers that she’ll be moving into a retirement community soon. We all hope the same thing, as it would give her company and rest. It won’t happen until Grandad dies, which, of course, no one wants but everyone agrees would be better for the entire family if he did.

So I got a box. Inside the box was an old suitcase, and inside that was another box, made of fine maple and fitted with brass. There was a little plaque on the front that read “The [rootietoot's maiden name]“. I knew exactly what that heavy box contained, for I had helped Grandmother sort it out when I was there 2 months ago. 18 place settings of sterling silver. Iced tea spoons, seafood forks and butter knives, pickle forks,service pieces, as well as the usual suspects of salad and dinner forks, soup spoons, knives, etc. 200 pieces, all told.

It’s the sort of thing I’ve always wanted, but never needed. Now I can teach my kids what I learned as a teen: Which fork to use, and where to place your used spoon. It’s one of those funny, archaic etiquette things that you never know when you’ll need it. You may never need it, yet you might, and you don’t want to be sitting there at dinner with the boss’s boss’s boss from Chicago who’s wife is Panamanian Royalty and she’s right next to you, and not know which spoon to use. Because you never know. And you can never know too much, but you can definitely know too little.

I taught Sweet Daddio the short course of table manners when he made the move into management. It’s simple, really, as long as you don’t let all the flash confuse you.
It’s this: start from the outside and work your way in. Ifit’s liquid, use a spoon, if it’s solid, use a fork. Take smaller bites than you want to. When in doubt, identify someone at the table who looks like they know what they’re doing, and copy them. Never put a used piece of silver on the tablecloth, rest it on the side of your plate. Wipe your mouth frequently and keep your napkin in your lap. Imagine this: If you were raised in a privileged household with all kinds of servants and diplomats eating there all the time, how would you act? Do that.

A while back I purchased a book on etiquette for the boys. I realized at the time that it was an act of futility, for the moment, but ev entually they’re going to want to know this stuff, and I can hand them the book and say “chapter 4″.

I think manners are important, They are what sets us apart from apes. Well, that and technology. And art. Manners are fairly consistant throughout civilized culture. Don’t talk with your mouth full, don’t fart publically, don’t be a “buttinski” (Dad’s word, not mine). It’s my job, as the Mother and the Civilizing Influence on this household, to make sure my kids know how to act, which fork is the seafood fork, and what shape glass to use for pinot grigio. It’s up to them to use the knowledge, and now that I am the proud owner of 18 place settings of Sterling (I don’t know the same of the pattern, but my grandparents married in 1936, and the set was my greatgrandmother’s before that, so I know it’s at least 100 years old),I can teach my kids how to use it. Now…do I polish it or do I pretend the patina is there on purpose?