Last weekend, I went to a flea market in Pasadena, CA. There were some wonderful antiques, amazing bargains and, of course, junk. One of the first tables I passed had an set of etched champagne flutes. There were lightly colored green and beautiful, just exactly what I was looking for. But I passed them by, thinking something better would come along. Well, I couldn't stop thinking about them and determined that I would purchase them on my way out, if somebody else hadn't beat me to it. I was really kicking myself for not having snagged them up already.



As I made my way back to that first booth, I realized they were gone. I spent several minutes surveying the surrounding table thinking maybe I had miscalculated in which booth I had seen them. When I turned back I saw them, they had been moved closer to the seller because she was packing up to leave. I said loudly, "I'll take these." She was a bit surprised by my forthrightness and lack of bartering. Most shoppers haggle but I was in no mood; I wanted them. She wrapped them up for me and I placed them snuggly in my bag. I was thrilled that I had not missed them, that I had not arrived too late.





As she was packing the glasses, the seller said, "Aren't these lovely? The lady that I got them from said she kept them packed away and never used them, she was afraid they would get broken." So they stayed packed away, never bringing any joy to their owner. She never shared them with anyone or allowed others the pleasure of drinking from them - there's just something about drinking from fine glass or crystal.

I thought of a piece of crystal I have at home. A lone etched goblet that had been my grandmother's, the only one that survived to make it to me. That one piece of crystal is so much more precious to me than had I inherited a perfect set of eight; made even more valuable by the fact that my father had given it to me shortly before he passed. You better believe I use it, I don't hide it away. I love the fact that it was my grandmother's, that her loving hands had washed it, that my father had protected it to give to me, and that I am creating my own memories of this solitary goblet.





When I was a young adult, I purchased some lovely dishes and antique glassware. I loved having these "fine" things and I have kept them locked away in a cupboard. I rarely used them, I didn't want them broken and felt they were too nice to use every day. Today, I took some of them down from the cupboard and washed them. I will be serving strawberry shortcake in them this evening to my children and tomorrow, perhaps jello. There's always room for jello.




What are you hiding in your cupboard? I hope it isn't bare.


What tools have you failed to use or forgotten about? I think it's time to break out the fine crystal and use it. Your business may depend upon it.




by rayannethorn

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"...that her loving hands had washed it..."
These are lovely -and important - thoughts Rayanne - thanks for gracing us with them.

A long time ago I became aware of the fact that when I looked at my hands I was looking at some of the hands of those who had gone before me and at the hands of some of those who would come after me. What comes after isn't as assured as what went before and I believe there are many lessons locked away in these mysteries. You have brought one of them to light.

Thank you!

Maureen
“Every man is a quotation from all his ancestors.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson quotes (American Poet, Lecturer and Essayist, 1803-1882)

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