Despite Mama’s recent cost-cutting, this year’s dinner somehow managed to make for an elegant display. The table was set with the artifacts of Grandpa Andrew’s success in the 1880s: Granny’s blue Wedgewood china; a complete set of silverware, trays, and serving dishes, each piece monogrammed with a tall, sloping L; crystal goblets for water and glasses for wine; six tall candlesticks, white candles for illuminating the room; and a fall centerpiece of gourds, cobs, and artificial branches with gold and red leaves collected by Granny from the trees behind Independence Hall.
On the far end of the table sat the turkey on its silver platter, waiting for Uncle Collin to do the carving. The small bird looked a little ridiculous sitting all by itself on the large platter, not even a bowl of gravy to keep it company. On the other end of the table were the mashed potatoes and vegetables with Agnes’s cheese sauce in their own silver serving bowls. In the middle of the table was another serving bowl for the cranberry chutney. A crystal chandelier hung over the table, surrounded by strings of reflective crystals draped from the ceiling to its base, four interior lamps reflecting outward, and twelve exterior lamps on its outer perimeter.
Lighting the candles instead of switching on the chandelier’s light, Mama stepped back to survey the table. Agnes could see Mama’s pride in her Thanksgiving table, reduced though it might be.
By tradition, Mama sat at the end closest to the kitchen while Uncle Collin, titular head of the family, sat at the far end, closest to the turkey and carving knife. Agnes sat on her mother’s left side, Granny on her mother’s right. Patrick sat between Agnes and his uncle. Three dejected and empty chairs had been removed to the far corner of the room. Perhaps next year, Mama could invite her aunts.
No comments:
Post a Comment