The sturdy cardboard box plucked on the thrift store shelf was slightly larger than the palm of my hand. The print on it was faded with a kind of dusty haze you get when something has sat out on a shelf for decades. It was blue with gold trim on all the edges. The box itself was a piece of decor. I pried open the lid and inside were soaps. Just soaps. Seashells, starfish and somewhat incongruously, little ovals with roses pressed into them. All these decorative soaps were poured in the prettiest sea glass hue. Blues, greens and ivory. Every one of them entirely unused and dry as dust. Cracks fissured through the designs. Any scent long faded to only a faintest whiff of powder — and then only when I first opened the box. It appeared to have been five to six decades since this soap had been manufactured and here it sat now, unused on a thrift store shelf.
I showed it to GirlWonder asking her, “Isn’t this neat?” She saw it differently. “No, it’s sad.” “Someone saved that forever only to never get to use it.” She’s always been a smart cookie. She was absolutely right. This was actually sad.
We seem to try and save “the good stuff.” The good dishes, linens, soaps, even clothing. Sure it’s fine to save some things for a “rainy day” but wouldn’t some rainy — and not so rainy — days be brightened by enjoying what we have?
To be honest, I still am guilty of hoarding heirlooms. That dusty box of silly old soaps got me thinking. Life is short. We need to use — and enjoy — the good stuff.
I think this often as I reach for my Gram’s beloved holiday dishes. Marigold “carnival glass” she amassed over the years, starting when it was just “old dishes” and not yet “collectible.” I remember how special Christmas felt when I saw those plates ringing the tables. Yes, even the “children’s table” got to use the good stuff. I can’t prove it but my Gram’s amazing recipes tasted even BETTER served with suck style.
Accordingly, I grew up with amazing memories of those dishes. When she passed them on to me I also used them for special dinners. When not in use they are displayed in a cabinet in the dining room. They are part of our home, our room, and our traditions. Our children grow up knowing them on sight as “special but useful” the same way I did. A highlight to me was when a dear friend asked us each to loan one place setting of “family” china to her future daughter-in-law’s bridal shower. What a special touch for a young woman to be wished well on her impending marriage surrounded by a tablescape of special dishes from so many friends. I daresay none of us would feel a connection, or warm memories if they had been safely stored away for decades. Still, there is more in the closets and drawers here.
For the New Year as I embraced the usual pull to clean and organize, I set to work on some long-term storage. I got out my great-grandmother’s “gold” flatware. Obviously, it’s not real gold. Instead, it hails from the mid-20th century – probably the 1950s. It graced my great-grandmother’s holiday tables for my entire childhood and into my young adult years. Later my Gram used it — with those pretty plates. When it was passed down to me I had two toddlers and a dishwasher that chewed up forks like that was its JOB. So I carefully packed away the “gold” flatware. I washed it all in hot soapy water – weirdly cathartic. It cast my mind back to washing dishes with my cousin after family meals. We eye-rolled and joked around and generally made memories we wouldn’t appreciate until decades later.
We are going to use that gold flatware more often now. I’m setting the table with it. I’m eating yogurt with it.
Ditto the quilts I have carefully folded away. Why? How does one get any memories out of things they never see or use?
Celebrating Christmas with BoyWonder and his fiance, I opened a beautiful box of lemon soaps, handmilled in Italy. They are absolutely divine. Lush and lemony, “almost too pretty to use!” I exclaimed as I pulled them out of the wrapping. To which GirlWonder said, wisely, “Remember mom, USE THE SOAP!”
I now have one in a pretty white ceramic dish by the kitchen sink. I’m sure this Italian lemon soap was meant for greater things but it makes me happy every time I see or use it.
Sure it’s great to keep some things “for nice” but I think we also deserve to enjoy our surroundings, our belongings, and yes, even the prettiest soap.
