Homebodies -One pretty saucer

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Published on Sunday, August 20, 2017

Remember when giving, or receiving, a china tea cup and saucer was exciting? Back in the day, a gift of such beauty was a cause for “ahs” and profuse thanks at a bridal shower. Most people of my generation – the leading edge of the Baby Boomers– can recall a series of fine china safely housed in the proper china cabinet.

Even with all my sorting and downsizing, I have one cherished saucer, the cup long gone. It is a deep blue with a soft white flower, edged with gold trim. The cup balanced delicately on three short, slender legs. As do many of the items we treasure, it elicits wondrous memories. That’s why we keep them. The set was a gift from a woman who influenced countless children. The school I mentioned was lovingly maintained by Mr. Huntley. He and his wife lived across the street from the school, and his wife served as the volunteer nurse, seamstress and calmer of fears. I recall the day Dougie ripped the back side out of his britches and he sought refuge in their home until the pants were mended. Or the countless cups of hot cocoa, made with milk, that were served to youngsters feeling the effects of homesickness those first days of school. Just entering their home was a haven.
Mrs. Huntley was a buxom matron with still a touch of her English accent. A lace handkerchief tucked discreetly within handy range. The couple became friends of our family, sharing magazines – a rarity in our home– and introducing us to tea. From china tea cups. Their home was small by modern standards. And crowded with beloved furniture. A true dining room table, with matching chairs – again not many farm homes had such luxury. And the china cabinet. Red glass serving dishes that got used, ceramic vases with delicate flowers. Pictures created from seas shells, tapestry throws on the divan. Again, for a basic farm kid, this home was even fancier than our grandmothers’. They did have a grown son, and had lost a wee one early on in life. The two of them had a heart for children. If they had an organized faith they never spoke of it. Their love for children shouted out their creed. Fell in a puddle at school, hike over to Mrs. Huntley and she could soothe the situation and get you dry and clean. The spare clothes may not have been a perfect fit, but they were appreciated.
And so, with the passing of time, as with all of us, they needed to move away, and move on. A parting gift to me was this delicate, fragile tea cup. Amazing that for one who chooses the outdoors, the rough and tumble, that this set has accompanied me wherever I live. ‘Twas a beloved grandchild that accidentally broke the cup. They never knew the depth of my feeling of loss, for people are always more important than things. The lonely, lovely, saucer still graces my spaces.