Blue Willow
Granddaddy's stories and Grandma's
plates
January 13, 2007
My grandfather had an invasive
vine growing up the side of his shed
in Southern Maryland that had small
blue berries on it. He called it the
china vine. Once I asked him why it
was called the china vine and he
told me because it was the color of
my grandmother's china. I was very
young then and somehow believed that
whoever made up universal names for
plants must have known my
grandmother, and had seen her
plates. True, those berries were the
very color of Grandma's blue willow
and for all I knew, she was the only
one who had plates that color, as I
had never seen them at anyone else's
house.
Grandmas had bought all of her blue
willow plates second hand at the
Hughesville auction as she had her
silver ware, glasses and much of her
furniture. Some was junk and some
was nice, but all items were
presentable.
Granddaddy told us the story of the
people on the blue willow plates,
where a young Chinese girl fell in
love with her wealthy father's
gardener. Her father already had
someone picked out for her to marry,
who was old and decrepit but also
very rich. The Chinese girl and her
lover decided to flee the rich
father's house (pictured on the
right of the plate) and sail off to
an island where they were secretly
married (their two small cottages
are seen on the boat being steered
towards their island of happiness).
The father sent out 3 henchmen (seen
crossing the bridge carrying their
weapons) to hunt down and kill the
young lovers. But before the killers
caught up to them, the gods turned
the lovers into turtle doves (seen
at the top of the plate above the
willow tree) and they flew away.
In 1988 when I was twenty-nine years
old and finally had enough money to
buy new dishes, I bought an entire
set of blue willow for my family to
use every day. Today, twenty years
later I still use the blue willow
and will continue to use it until I
die. It gives me great comfort and
reminds me of time spent with my
grandparents at their St. Mary's
home on the Patuxent River with the
whole Granados clan . We always ate
off of Grandma's blue willow and she
generally heated the plates in the
oven before serving dinner.
For reasons not to be detailed in
this post, I have few fond memories
of being a child. The same is true
for my brothers and sister. My
mother suffered a great tragedy
early in her life and my father was
absent. Her depression and other
hardships left us with a cold home
and little attention. But the void
left by our lack of a happy home was
filled exponentially by our
Grandparents and their home on the
river.
The minute we passed into St. Mary's
County knowing our grandparent's
home was near, our anticipation
became unbearable. The final
approach to their house was going
down the "turtle road" where
Maryland snapping turtles and
terrapins were often seen sauntering
across. At the last curve about 1/4
mile from their house, we'd get the
first glimpse of the Patuxent River
with its waves lapping up against
the bulkhead in front of Town Creek
Marina (then called "Aubrey's") and
the Seven Gables Hotel.
Lui and Anne Granados were
married for sixty-five years when
Lui died at the age of 88. He was a
Spanish immigrant and she the
Mayor's daughter. They raised six
during the Depression and WWII in
Riverdale, the same small Maryland
town where my grandmother was born.
They lived there well into their
sixties until Granddaddy retired.
Shortly after his retirement they
finished building their dream house
on the water in St. Mary's County,
named the house after their
home-town Riverdale and moved there
permanently.
Their
six children (my mother, Anita is
the second oldest in the striped
dress below) spawned thirty children
between them. Being a part of the
Granados clan is an indescribable
blessing. A sixth generation has
been born and there are more than
500 of us today. Nothing can replace
the memories I have of spending
summers with my cousins, endless
hours on the beach, the smell of
steamed crabs, watching the oyster
boats coming in from the Bay, chilly
evenings fishing on the pier with my
brothers and uncles, and crabbing in
the morning before the sun came up.
There was always room for one or two
more in the car, around the table,
in the boat - whatever.
Whatever I missed at home, I found
double at my grandparents, and those
blessings that most take for granted
are magnified in my memory as
priceless experiences, treasured and
remembered. I miss my grandmother
terribly and think of her almost
every day ... the smell of her
cooking, the hard crusted bread and
Spanish salad dressing, the way she
set her old oak dining room table
with a table cloth and napkins
crunched up with antique silver
napkin rings she bought at the
auction with random initials of the
previous owners engraved. I miss her
putting us to bed and saying our
prayers with us. I often slept in
the childhood bed of my mother under
a large picture window that
overlooked the river. In the summer
we'd fall asleep to sound of the
waves lapping on the shore and the
occasional hum of a boat in the
channel.
My grandfather, though often grumpy
(who wouldn't be with 10 to 30 kids
running around) never neglected to
hug and kiss us when we visited and
always had a story. Though his
version of the blue willow legend
had some errors and the proper name
for the vine in his yard was a
"porcelain vine" not china vine, he
never failed to entertain us and
burn his words and stories into our
memories.
My daughter recently told me it was
time to get some new plates, as some
of the blue willow were chipped and
we'd had them for years. The thought
of getting rid of them made me
shudder. I don't know if life at
Grandma's was so good - or if it
just seemed so good because life at
home was so bad. In some small way
perhaps I identified with the young
Chinese girl on the plate being
sacrificed by her parent over
trivial fluff that mattered little
in life when considering love and
happiness as worthy goals to strive
for. There were many times I sat at
my window wishing I could sail away
to grandma's house and be safe and
loved, where life seemed normal,
consistent, and I was always
welcome. The plates remind me of
that place in my childhood.
I'm nearly fifty now and I have five
grandchildren of my own. We don't
live on the river, but within a few
miles of several rivers and the
Tangier Sound. I have a porcelain
vine growing up the pillars of my
front porch and I serve my family
and friends on blue willow dishes
year round, which is just one way I
find myself attempting to duplicate
my grandmother's life.
I often pray to Grandma, as I
believe she's a saint in heaven now.
I ask her to pray that I can be for
my grandchildren what she was for
me.
|
