The French China

My paternal grandparents had a marvelous life in the Navy. My grandfather graduated from the Naval Academy in the class of 1900 and, despite the frequent separations, they had a happy married life. My grandmother used to love to say with a twinkle, "Navy wives are happy half the time; I'm not saying which half."

In their day, even junior officers rated help in the house and they were posted to some pretty interesting places. Early in their marriage, my grandfather was on one of the battleships that sailed in 1907-09 around the world in Teddy Roosevelt's Great White Fleet. Speak softly but carry a big stick; those huge white battleships were the big stick.

My grandmother followed the fleet all around the world to all kinds of exotic ports - Egypt, Hawaii, China, Japan, India, Australia. We still have her ticket, which reads "From New York to San Francisco, via Suez." I have a photograph of her and two other ladies in their long dresses and enormous hats riding camels in Egypt. My grandmother told me about that day, saying, "I rode a camel to the Pyramids. Nasty, smelly animals - I took the train back!"

After they returned from that trip, my grandfather served on a ship, the USS Monongahela, which took him to France; Grandma followed along on a passenger liner. When they took a few days together in Paris, he said, "Josie, I want to buy you a mink coat," but she demurred in favor of this set of French china. Every single woman in our family, without exception, thinks she made the right choice.

Last week while I was visiting their daughter Aunt Virginia, the keeper of the family china, she allowed me carefully to take out a place setting to photograph it for the family archives. Richly blue and gold with raised decoration, it is truly glorious stuff. My grandmother always washed it herself, afraid to let the stewards handle it. She felt that if anyone broke it, it had better be herself or she'd never forgive them. Aunt Mary, my Dad's older sister, was helping her dry it once and so great was her fear of her mother's sorrow that when she dropped one of the cups she caught it again before it hit the floor. The set is still complete; twenty-four place settings, plus serving dishes.

I love imagining the table my grandmother must have set for a big dinner party - white linens, the gorgeous china, gleaming silver and crystal, and perhaps flowers in the center. It must have been an amazing sight when twenty-four guests sat down to dinner at their house with the French china.

Family Visits

This is my Aunt Virginia, my Dad's younger sister, she of the killer fruitcakes. She's a pistol. She was my matron of honor in our wedding. She recently turned 90, still drinks a martini every evening before dinner, volunteers several half days per week at her local library, and drives herself and her friends all over Robin Hood's barn. I've always said that I want to be Aunt Virginia when I grow up.

I'm leaving today to go visit her, my own sister, my older brother and his wife, my sister's son and his two daughters, and my brother's daughter and her husband and year-old son. Whew! I'll be gone about 10 days and when I return My Beloved's brother and his wife and, possibly, his son and main squeeze will be here for a visit.

So, while I'm visiting family, I don't think I'll be blogging much. You can check back from time to time if you want and I'll check on all of you as often as I can, but it's going to be a busy two weeks.

I'll give your regards to Aunt Virginia.

Aunt Virginia's Fruit Cake

When we returned from Connecticut, we found on our doorstep, delivered that very day, a box I have been anticipating ever since I was a very small child. Every year at Christmas, no matter where in this crazy world our family was stationed, we received a homemade fruitcake from Aunt Virginia, my Dad's baby sister.

Aunt Virginia has always been a favorite of mine, and my inspiration. She has a lovely singing voice and even sang on the Major Bowes Amateur Hour in her youth. She was in the first class of the WAVES during World War II, adding the fifth star to my grandmother's window. She and Uncle Arthur raised five great kids, all of whom are delightfully quirky and solid members of society, while she pecked away at a Masters in Library Science. She went to work at the Jervis Library in her home town of Rome, NY and really never stopped, claiming that she needed to earn her "gin money." (And, indeed, she does drink a martini each evening). She worked part time until this year when she retired from active service. "Retired," however, only means that she's at the library two or three afternoons a week as a volunteer. I'm not sure she'd like me to divulge her exact age in so public a forum, but she still drives herself to Boston or NYC, attends numerous social events weekly, takes a single pill a day and makes delicious fruitcake in her eighth decade.

Double wrapped in plastic and foil, Aunt Virginia's fruitcake is densely heavy for its size and redolent of brandy, preserved fruits and rich nuts. Cutting a slice requires a balance of strength and finesse, strength to cut through all the goodies held in place by the merest hint of cake and delicacy to keep the thin slice from falling apart. One eats only thin slices of this rich, rich dessert - I defy anyone to finish a larger piece.

This year's cake came in a box gaily decorated with a small fortune in flower stamps, an unexpected bonus of color and cheer, much appreciated on the receiving end. Each year, Aunt Virginia threatens to discontinue making fruitcakes as the ingredients are increasingly difficult to find but, so far, we have continued to benefit from her generosity and culinary skill.

Merry Christmas Eve! Don't you wish you had an Aunt Virginia? I thought so.