The Tea Service

The glint of the enamel coating was a little dull. The gold trim was slightly faded. The serving tray had seen better days, but my Grand mother was still proud of her tea service. She would bring it out every time I would come to visit. She would take such care to place the cups on doilies and the pot containing the hot water in the center along with the cream jar and the sugar bowl. The service was able to accommodate 6 people and came with accompanying small plates for serving scones. My grand mother was ever so proud of her tea biscuits. It was like a ritual for her, to serve just one person seemed to be a joy. She always made sure to tell me the story of the old tea service and how it had come to be in her families possession. She would go on about the British who had held Boston where her Great, Great, Great Grand mother had been a servant to one of the members of British aristocracy and how when the British had been defeated, the nobleman packed up in such a hurry, that he simply left half of his possessions in order to get back to England before the ink was dry on the Declaration of Independence. The truth some times gets lost in the story. The simple fact is that no one in the family outside of 200 years ago really knew how the tea service came to be in our family line, but one thing was for sure, it was an authentic Porcelain tea set from England.

   Grand mother finished her prattling about the tea set and served up the hot water and put the tea in the cup. It took a few moments for it to cool and settle. The tea was some blend she buys from a import merchant down town. It takes more than two cubes of sugar or a table spoon of honey to take the bite off of the stuff. I do enjoy it once it is properly sweetened, but Grand mother simply takes it straight. she says it gives her a kick in the britches. I think she just doesn’t have a sweet tooth like I do. Anyway, once the tea is settled, we often chat for what seems like hours. There are photos about the house showing various people that have come to visit Grand Mother over the years. There are even pictures of Great Grand mother with the tea service prominent in the foreground. One of the photos shows Grand mother as a young woman with her mother my Great grandmother sitting at a table with the then Mayor of the small town. When I was really young and barley able to feed myself, Great grandmother was still about and would speak occasionally on how proud she was to have been able to serve such distinguished guest in her home. I didn’t think much of it, I just let it be filed away into my memory along with lots of other stories a young woman might hear from Great grand parents or grand parents. Grand mother and I chatted a bit more then I had to go. I always enjoy our visits, but time seems fleeting. I have studies at university and a part time job as the editor of our college paper. Life seems all too busy sometimes.

   I took my leave and went on my way, I looked back over my shoulder and saw my Grand mother begin the ritual of picking up the tea service. She always took it to the kitchen and with great loving care would clean it and put on a linen cloth to air dry, then she would put it back in her China Cabinet. I made it back to school just in time for a quick bite at the cafeteria. I went back to my dorm room and took out my lap top, it was a never ending ritual of email and response between editing submissions to the paper and class work. I fell asleep in at my desk again. It was 4 am when I got up and made it to bed with the computer logo tattooed temporarily to my face where I had went to sleep. I woke up about 9 am and got showered and headed to my first class. It was a history class that I didn’t want to take but my advisor recommended it I wanted to be a serious researcher and journalist one day. Today the professor came in dressed in his familiar tweed suit and glasses. He began his lecture on the importance of our own personal history. He talked about the linage of people in America and about how important it was to know who we are and where we come from in order to identify who we may want to become. I didn’t quiet get the gist of what he was saying but my mind kept drifting back to my Grand mother and her tea service. I began to jot down digital footnotes to my lecture notes. It is a bad habit I have, but one that is common among writers, or so I am told. It helps us keep perspective I guess when we are doing one thing but thinking about something related. I just know it works as a reminder about things I might want to research or write about. I finished the lecture and the professor said that he would be sending out digital notifications for our next assignment. I closed my lap top and made my way to the cafeteria, I was starving since I had slept late and missed breakfast. I met up with my co-editor from the paper. We ate and talked about the upcoming issue of the school paper. The conversation was mostly mundane campus related stuff, nothing earthshaking, like a major political figure coming to campus or anything. I kept drifting out of the conversation and had to be pulled back in several times. I couldn’t get past the idea of my own personal history and the tea service that was still stuck in my head. I finished my working lunch and went my next two classes. It was late afternoon when I made it back to the dorm. I plopped down on my bed an took a brief but much needed nap. I woke up about an hour later and opened up my lap top. I checked my emails and found that the history professor stodgy those he was, had sent out our assignment. I opened the email an saw that he wanted each of us to write a short essay on something that was related to our personal history. I arched my back and began to let my mind wander. Again and again it came back to that silly old tea service. I decided to open up my history notes and look at my footnotes to see if I could get some perspective on this whole mess. I wasn’t sure how this would go, but I had a pretty good idea where I would begin.

   The week pressed on and I called my mother and then my Grand mother. I got the name off of the tea service and jotted down as many notes as I could. I got mom to send me a few photos of the Tea Set. I dove into the library and found out a great deal about the style of Porcelain and techniques used in the creation of a Tea Service in the 18th century. After 3 days of work and other juggling of responsibilities, I felt that I was ready to put a paper together. I worked from Friday evening well into the night. I put the paper and research aside at about 10 pm and fell asleep dreaming of tea cups churning around in my head. I woke up the next morning from dreams still bouncing around in my head about my Grand mother and her Tea set. I finally got up and showered. I then went to eat and came back determined to put the project to bed sort of speak. I pulled together the facts about the Tea service and put some of the old stories that were part fact, part embellishment by my Grand mother mixed in with factual tidbits. I proof read the paper and shot it off to the professor’s in box. After such an exhausting dive into my families history, I felt I deserved a treat. So I sprung for a ice cream treat at a local coffee shot where a cute premed major worked on Saturdays . I was more there for him than the ice cream, but he doesn’t need to know that.

   The weekend faded into oblivion and Monday came with more task to complete. I went back to my history class not thinking twice about the essay as all I seemed to do of late was research and write. The professor in his usual fashion came into class. Today however, there was something unusual about the way he was acting. On his desk was something covered up with a cloth. He began by telling us how well he thought we did on our papers. He touted that some of us had been inspired and some of us were obviously never going to aspire to be a historian. I just wanted the lecture to be over. It was then that he walked over to the desk and began to talk about the revolutionary war. I was puzzled as to what this had to do with the assignment that we had been given, that was until the professor spoke of one paper in particular that excited him, which I could not imagine him getting excited. He then pulled the cloth aside and to my amazement and sheer embarrassment there was a complete Tea Service. The professor looked in my general direction and I wanted to crawl away. He then said, let us talk about the importance of heirlooms and family history. I couldn’t wait to tell my Grand mother about this atrocity of humiliation. She would surly get a kick out it!