I have a special feeling for platters–no, not the 1950s singing group, although I enjoyed their music, nor even new platters, but platters from the past, the older, the better. I have a few of them, have had them for years. Some I probably inherited; some, I bought at flea markets or antique shops. My platters hold, by turn, roasts, turkey (at Thanksgiving), cookies, biscuits and hot rolls, or whatever else that seems to require their particular size.
You know what appeals to me, besides the pretty picture in the center and the trim around the edges? Thinking of past families who have used the same platters I use. Who were these people? Where did they live? What did they put into my platters? I guess I like the sense of continuity and a trace of mystery associated with them.
Why are they shaped as they are, sort of oblong, longer than wide? Was it to fit better onto a rectangular table loaded with food? And did their name come from the word “plate?” Were they once called “plate-er?”
Anyhow, that’s just one of my idiosyncrasies, one of the inconsequential things I wonder about. Other people collect cups or coffee mugs (I like them too). Sara once had a cunning cup with a bumble bee painted on the bottom. I accidentally broke it and haven’t found another like it. I also like cute little pitchers. I think they would be nice to collect too, but I couldn’t stack them, so they’d take up a lot of room.
As I sip my first fortifying cup of Folgers and gaze out at the dark, pre-dawn morning, I wonder what the unfolding day will hold. I hope it holds blessings for you and for me and a bit of curiosity about everyday, commonplace things that we usually take for granted, like platters. Who knows who might have sat at a table containing one of those platters from the past? Perhaps it was some dignitary or rogue. Whose were the hard-working hands that filled those platters with food? It doesn’t matter one whit, one way or the other; it’s just one of those small mysteries that will never be solved but are nice to wonder about.
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