Shanghai'd China and Super Glue

In my basement there is a cardboard box filled to the brim with Blue Willow china. Place settings for ALMOST fifteen are wrapped in newspapers dated September 13, 1994 ... almost two weeks to the day after Mom passed away. Now before you stop reading, thinking "here comes a depressing piece, written by a down-in-the-dumps writer", I need to tell you that this is anything BUT a depressing piece, and I am anything BUT down in the dumps.

This little tale begins about forty-three years ago in 1966 when I was a mere six years old. We, meaning my Mom, my Dad, and myself, were wrapping that Blue Willow china for our move from Macon to Savannah, Georgia. Dad was unpacking the china cabinet and handing the beautiful blue plates to me and mother, and we would wrap them in newspaper and stack them in a box. At the time, there were sixteen place settings along with assorted matching bowls, pitchers, and tea-sets. Mom was desperately proud of that Blue Willow set, because she had saved up Octagon Soap coupons and ordered the entire set through the mail.

I know this because every time we used that china, Mom would regale us in how she purchased that Octagon Soap for everyone she knew, just so she could earn enough coupons for the set. In other words, if you had a birthday coming up, more than likely you would get a bar of soap ... well, a bar of soap along with a half a pound cake, or coconut cake.

Mom would tell this story with a lot of pride, and when she got to the part where she sent off the bulging packet of Octagon Soap coupons, she would ALWAYS be laughing at the idea that she bought soap every week for nearly two years, just to get that set of Blue Willow china. It was was her favorite "hard times" story to tell, and truthfully, I loved hearing it even though I didn't have a CLUE what Octagon Soap was.

So anyway, we are wrapping her china when Dad suggested that he and Mom have a cup of coffee. They vanished into the kitchen and I was left at the dining room table wrapping plates.

Don't ask me how it happened ... what strange event happened to cause the Earth to shift and yank the plate from my hand ... I haven't a clue. But whatever happened in that split second turned me from a cherub into an outlaw.

When I looked down and realized that the plate was broken almost perfectly in half, my heart plummeted like an elevator down to my toes. Since Mom and Dad were in the kitchen, I did what any normal six year old would do ... I wrapped both pieces in a piece of newspaper, smuggled it down the hall to my bedroom and then stuffed it between the mattress and the boxed springs.

Fast forward five more moves and it's the late 70's. I'm nineteen years old and Mom was unpacking her Blue Willow dishes and the one she had JUST unwrapped magically fell perfectly into two pieces in her hand. It was then that I spilled my guts, and since it was years and years later and Mom hadn't missed the plate in all that time, we both shared a good laugh.

Where, you might ask, had that plate been all that time?

Well, after unsuccessfully gluing it back together with school paste, I decided to bury the thing in the back yard once we were moved into our new house in Savannah. However, the ground was so hard, I could barely dig a hole big enough to bury a pecan, much less a Blue Willow plate. So, I hid the broken plate in the garage in a box of my toys I no longer played with.

During the NEXT move, I ran across that plate and decided to try once again to hide the evidence. Almost a dozen months later a torrential rainstorm washed the dirt from around the buried plate, so I had to bring it back in and hide it once again. It stayed hidden in my Barbie Doll case until 1976. I was sixteen and a glorious invention called Super Glue saved my life.

Late one night I covertly glued the plate back together ... forgetting to peel off the OLD glue before sticking the pieces back into one piece. I let it dry in the back of my closet before I carefully slipped it back into the china cabinet when no one was looking.

For thirteen long years that stupid broken plate had followed me around. It had been buried, hidden, smuggled, glued, and stuffed into a Barbie doll case. It had made my life a living nightmare at every dinner Mom decided to use the "good china". I held my breath during every move, and once when the box of china slipped out of Dads hands and hit the corner of the table, I PRAYED I could somehow slip that stupid plate into the box before anyone "outed" the missing plate. No such luck. Everything survived.

So, today the box of Blue Willow is in the basement. On the very top of the stack of plates is a wrapped plate that is very clearly broken exactly in half. On the back, there is a tell-tale line of dirt mixed with school glue from one of my many attempts at repairing the plate ... a plate that no longer "haunts" me, but rather comes along for the ride as I tell MY kids the story of that plate ... that stupid blue willow plate that Mom got with Octagon Soap coupons.

Idea from Magpie Tales #14