These very pretty pieces of china mean nothing to the world at large but they have great importance to me.
When I was a boy, the only holiday that was celebrated at 539 East 9 Street was Thanksgiving. Why was it not forbidden along with all the others? The reason, I suspect, is that it was the holiday least tainted by religion.
My parents were not sociable people and Thanksgiving was the only time of year that our house ever saw a guest or that I experienced conviviality -- which is why this particular china pattern of became important to me. My parents owned a broken set -- perhaps a dozen or so pieces. I don't know how or when they were acquired, or why, but I do know that they appeared, annually, in November. To me they said, and still say, not only turkey and sweet potatoes, but friendship and laughter.
I'm still surprised that they owned such handsome pieces -- far too fancy and decorated for our modest utilitarian household.
I inherited these remnants because neither of my brothers expressed any interest in them. For the record, they are Charles Field Haviland, commissioned by Macy's, and originally manufactured in 1938, so they would have been newish when acquired by my parents. I once knew the name of the particular pattern, but I've forgotten it. In the catalogue they're listed as "Head 174".They are terribly respectable and have "establishment" written on their faces, but they have almost no monetary value. Less than nothing, in fact -- you'd have to hire a couple of guys to cart them away.
One day, on ebay, I found on auction a full set of of what I had come to think of as "my family pattern." A hundred or so pieces -- three different size plates, soup bowls, cups and saucers, serving dishes, sugar and creamer, a butter dish -- the works. Needless to say, it was not difficult to outbid the competition. I "won" the auction -- a small triumph which I choose to regard as tribute to my heritage.
Now, whenever we have guests, which is a lot more frequently, believe me, than it was in my family of origin, out come the Charles Field Haviland dishes. Especially at ceremonies and Thanksgivings.
I'm sad that my children show not the least interest in this chinaware. But why should they? They were not a mysterious feature of their childhoods.
Perhaps, some day, one of the seven grandchildren will be intrigued. But I'm doubtful.
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