Don’t Return That Vessel Empty!

Gene was writing witty advertising copy at an agency in San Francisco so we had moved to a rented house on Belvedere—a small enclave in San Francisco Bay. Our fourth child, Amanda, was brand new. David, our eldest, was five. We needed a dog, got a Dalmatian—a sweet-tempered coach dog. Named him Pappy, after Pappy Waldorf, Cal’s (our alma mater’s) football coach. Pappy was a darling except the puppy chewed holes in the carpet, across the bottom of a new set of drapes, and my new Oleg Cassini bathing suit. We gave Pappy to the Ross Fire Department, and we all were happy.

Point of this story is that I was a Very Pressed Mommy and grateful for all the domestic help  I could get. The old lady next door was very kind in advising me about market and garden shops (there was only one of each), where to find a cleaning lady (we couldn’t afford one), and what to do about the afternoon winds that came up from the bay (work around them).

One day I learned from the postman that Mrs. P. was laid up with some minor injury. So I baked her my gingercake, took it over, her daughter answered the door, took the cake with warm thanks.

Three days later, I was out front watering the ceanothus (so much wind, flowers went flat, so the front garden was all tough shrubs) when Mrs. P. came hobbling through our mutual hedge carrying something.

Oh, it was my gingercake pan. It had something in it.

A jar of strawberry preserves she had made!

I exclaimed, was most grateful—“The children love strawberry jam! Thank you so much! How kind of you!”

“My dear child,” she said in her sweetest but most toplofty manner, “my mother taught me: Never Return a Dish Empty.”

“Oh,” says I, thinking, That’s a marvelous notion. Of all my mother taught me about How to Get On With It, she omitted that notion…I was amazed.

It is a marvelous notion, don’t you think?

Fortunately I’ve put up dozens of jars of marmalade from our Meyer lemon tree…they are my Grab and Go gifts. You could make a stash of your own with perhaps the fruits or flowers from your garden…or a special treat you’ve discovered from the market–I also love to give Rancho Gordo heirloom beans (www.frantoniogrove.com).

So a week ago Friday our vivacious friend Ruti brought us supper—a remarkable chicken soup and a delicate quiche. I’m late in returning her pot and pan, but I’ll be dropping them by her house soon with a jar of marmalade.

This is a beautifully giving time of year when special treats come across our thresholds…then the vessel must be returned. Remember the old lady on Belvedere’s lesson, eh?

So a Very Happy Hanukkah. Merry Merry Christmas. And try not to let all the devastating news of the day affect you. There still is goodness and beauty in the world—from people like Mrs. P. and Ruti.