All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was.
-Toni Morrison
We all have memories. About all sorts of things. Good times, sad times, exciting times, bad times, funny times. Peaceful moments and those filled with anguish. I wonder how many of those times involve sharing a cup of tea with a friend or pouring some coffee into a favourite mug? The act of drinking something is more than just one that provides our bodies with necessary fluid. It is something we do for comfort, celebration, enjoyment and sharing of all that is good, and much that is not. We drink alone, we drink together. We drink to quench our thirst. We drink together to quench our desire to share our lives.
The vessels that carry our beverages are common. We all have them. But I suspect that we have our favourites. A teapot that reminds us of someone, a special mug, our fanciest stemware. Vessels that conjure memories of people and events, places and experiences. These are the things I wish to share. Some are ordinary, some are not. All allow memories to flow – back to places I’ve been. Places populated with people.
It is no secret that we have a mug situation in this house. I have tried on several occasions to reduce this collection, but have failed miserably. Generally the process involves emptying cupboards, selecting favourites to remain in the prime real estate, and then storing the leftovers in a new location. I don’t know how many remain, but there are a lot. Some are special. There are three in particular that immediately bring me to places we’ve been, and experiences we’ve had. The first is from Buckingham Palace. It is my “God Save the Queen” mug. It is fine bone china, obviously, and reminds me of a woman who has been a constant presence in our lives. We sang these very words every morning at school when I was a child, her image is on all our money, we’ve observed her life – good and bad – for decades. She has given herself to public service, she is elderly and, I suspect, she is, at this point, somewhat beloved by most (whether monarchists or not). I’ve stopped using this mug for I fear I will break it and will never find its replacement. It reminds me of my childhood and my later visits to one of my favourite cities. It reminds me of commitment and graceful aging. It also reminds me that, like us all, even a Queen needs care.
The first time Bryan and I went to New York City together, being film lovers, we made the obligatory pilgrimage to Tiffany & Co. on Fifth Avenue. No breakfast for us, but we did venture in for a bit of shopping. Yes, we perused the watches and jewellery on the main floor – casually disregarding the fellow with the gun standing by the door (protecting, not snatching the merchandise…). Then we ventured to the upper levels in search of some tiny souvenir. Eventually we settled on a mug. We liked it. It was in the realm of affordability and it was covered with images of Manhattan landmarks. I use it often. It is a perfect size for an afternoon cup of tea – and is made of bone china, so completely appropriate. Every time I use it I think of that trip, and the many that have followed. I think of Audrey Hepburn gazing at the window displays (something I’ve done myself – sometimes with complete awe). Mostly I think of how fortunate I’ve been to be able to travel, and to have a travel companion that enjoys the adventures as much as I do.
As far as travel goes, this last mug comes from one of the most incredible places we’ve been. I’ve mentioned our one whirlwind trip to China in previous chapters, and this was our souvenir purchased at the Forbidden City in Beijing. We had almost no time to see this wonder. It happened to be closed on the one free day I had in my schedule, and it felt like an almost impossible adventure to plan. But we managed to squeeze it in to a tiny slot of time on the day our flight left to return home. The Forbidden City was a bit of a subway ride away and opened at eight in the morning and we had been told to meet in the hotel lobby around noon to be driven to the airport. By our calculations, we could probably manage about two hours there, if we played our cards right. Two hours is by no means enough, but it was what we had. We were in Tiananmen Square at 6:30 am for a quick look around, and in line for tickets by 7:00. Because, crowds are a factor in a country of over a billion people - all of whom seemed to be in line that morning. We managed to be about tenth in line at one of the 20 or 30 ticket kiosks, and were through the gates by 8:15. It was a glorious couple of hours. A beautiful place and one I’d love to return to for a more in depth visit. The unexpected highlight was the young Chinese boy that clearly found Bryan fascinating. He kept turning up and looking with curiosity, as if Bryan was part of the various displays. At one point, it appeared as though his mother was scolding him for this behaviour and the game ended. Interesting to be the very obvious minority in that context – the outsider, the stranger, and so funny to be followed and observed in this way. This unassuming mug, that I think means luck or happiness (but I could be wrong!), carries in its delicacy that wonderful morning.
But beverages must be made. They must be served. And, we have a few special things that fulfill that purpose. Many years ago, a friend, or possibly a slight relation of Bryan’s (there is some miscellaneous Mennonite connection), went off on a trip to Turkey. Bryan casually mentioned that he’d love a Turkish coffee pot. A number of weeks later, this coffee pot arrived. Carefully packed in her luggage, dragged across the globe. A lovely kindness from a woman who is an inspiration in her career, travels, hospitality and art collecting skills. A woman who has cooked for us and never fails to give us her beautiful homemade jams and chutneys every year as a Christmas gift. A woman that has lived her life fully – and continues to do so, as I hope to emulate if I am also so lucky to reach my late eighties…and beyond. She is an example that I am reminded of whenever I see this special, copper pot.
We also have a beautiful pottery teapot that was given as a gift at one of the many wedding showers I had the good fortune to be given - more than thirty years ago. Well, good fortune yes, but those who know me understand that I have since implemented a strict no bridal shower attendance policy. Although, I can probably be persuaded to send a gift. I believe I had nine showers. Nine. The generosity was impressive – and quite welcome, as we had very little. I appreciate the planning and the kindness. But it was a bit much for someone who struggles with social events, particularly when one is at the centre of attention (and possibly doesn’t need five water pitchers and seven muffin tins). One of these gatherings was thrown by our university friends, and, thankfully, was a party for both of us. These were students. They didn’t have much, but they generously gave us this teapot made by a local Manitoba potter. It was an incredibly generous and beautiful gift. It reminds me of those special years, and of the place we are from. Where our parents still live, and where we still have a few roots, despite it no longer being home. Again, what the artisan has drawn from their clay is so much more than what could have been anticipated.
It wouldn’t be right to speak of any category of items in this house without a bit of a wander through the history of architecture and design. We have two classic serving vessels – a mere coffee carafe and a simple tea kettle. Well. Mere and simple may not be the right words. These are both items we have routinely seen in museums around the world. They are hallmarks of modern industrial design. The coffee carafe was created by Danish designer Erik Magnussen in 1977. It probably looks familiar, because it has been made continually since that time – in various colours and materials (stainless steel being the original) and there are all kinds of knock-off versions. I purchased this for Bryan as a wedding gift. Because he loves coffee. The second design classic is the Michael Graves tea kettle with a bird whistle, designed in 1985. Graves was a notable American architect and Bryan was able to hear him speak once, and was greatly inspired by this man’s life and work. Following a spinal cord infection, he was wheelchair bound and became an advocate for barrier-free design and improvements to healthcare design. He has since died, but his legacy lives on. Bryan received the kettle as a gift or prize at an industry event some years ago. He treasured it, but we did use it as our regular kettle. Imagine the day that I accidentally melted the tiny bird whistle to the point that it fused with the metal and rendered the thing unusable. The cost of a new replacement was prohibitive, so I began a search for a used one. Thankfully, Wolfgang in Frankfurt (via ebay) was able to send one across the sea and all has been restored. Both these items conjure up a lot of memories. Bits of steel with stories to tell.
Our possessions are a bit of an odd mix, and these next items are no exception. They are things that, for both of us, immediately bring to mind our grandparents. I present our Eaton’s collection. I will need to expand the parameters a bit to fit all four pieces of this collection into musings on beverages, but I’m sure I will be forgiven. The Eaton’s department store was a Canadian institution from 1869 until 1999. It was a place that was filled with childhood stories for both of us because my grandfather and Bryan’s grandmother worked there.
My grandfather worked there for many years, and I fondly remember the story of how Mr. Eaton asked for him personally to help with moving some valuable items because he had proved himself to be so reliable and trustworthy. Bryan’s grandmother worked there following the death of her husband – in women’s lingerie. I know she helped many a young girl fit their first ... unmentionables, and I have it on good authority (direct from a former satisfied customer) that she made the experience tolerable. As it turned out, both Bryan and I took a turn working for the company at some point during our university years, and I’m pretty sure Mr. Eaton funded my engagement ring. So we keep a few mementos. We have a brick from the now, sadly, demolished Eaton’s Building in Winnipeg, where our grandparents worked. We have a photograph of that building, purchased as a souvenir on one of our trips to visit family. And, to bring us back to beverages, we have a mug, albeit from the Montreal Eaton’s - another iconic building that houses a fantastic art deco restaurant that still exists, even though no longer used. And we have a teabag. Yes, a teabag. This is a recent acquisition, or rather, re-acquisition, found in a deep clean of our kitchen cupboards. It must be from before 1999 when the store finally closed, and yet here it is intact and reminding us of another era, and those who are long gone but never forgotten. So it is kept with all our other treasures.
It may seem that we drink nothing but tea and coffee, which I will confess is not quite not true. We have been known to enjoy the occasional glass of champagne and sporadic cocktails. These also require accoutrements, and there are a few of those hanging around. These last two are, again, extra special. The first is a set of champagne coupes. The glorious coupe, as used in every movie from the 1940s and 1950s. So very glamorous, so much better than the flutes that seem to be everyone’s current favourite. How I longed for those lovely glasses when I saw them in the movies – especially that scene in White Christmas, the cast party, the fake engagement – surely you know the one? A movie we have watched with my sister and brother-in-law and two nephews every Christmas for about twenty five years. I may have mentioned this once or twice, and as always, my dear friend Marion came to the rescue. Two years ago, she turned up right before our annual Christmas carolling event with a giant box. This event often coincides with our wedding anniversary, and this was a very thoughtful gift – ten beautiful champagne coupes. We used them that year. We toasted many things. We continue to look forward to every time we are able to share some bubbly with that gang of friends - living in anticipation of the day we can sing our hearts out together, celebrating Christmas and baking and glamorous parties and all things good.
There is only one way to end the stroll down this particular memory lane, and it is with the penguin bucket - with its company of penguins wandering around the middle. Originally designed around 1950 for West Bend, this is another iconic design. It belonged to Bryan’s grandmother. It is a part of his childhood, a part of Sunday dinners in Eva’s dining room – her beautifully dressed table. While it was originally intended to be an ice bucket, she used it for buns. To keep them warm. She wasn’t the only one, later in its life it became the Penguin Hot and Cold Server, a popular multi-use object. There are many of them floating around, we often see them in antique shops. But none are as special as this one. It was lovingly filled. It fed many. It was the height of fashion with its modern shape and quirky penguins. It means more than simply what it is, or what it was intended to be. It is a link to the past – to family, to gatherings, to a personal history.
We drink to quench our thirst. We drink to share a cup. We drink to connect at social events and celebrations. The vessels we use are important. They tell stories, and they signify the importance of the connections. Even the plastic cups of this past year of pandemic picnics mean something. When we share our thirst, we share so much more. When we quench it together, we are joined. Drink well. Fill your cup. Treasure both the refreshment to your body and to your soul that comes with every drop.
Comments