By the time I got around to acting on this post, I had forgotten entirely the spirit of homesteading toughness you meant to convey, the penitential discipline, the instruction to children. Instead, my only takeaway was:
“Polish the silver, Bob. Regina wants you to polish the silver.”
Our only silver is a matched set – a tray, and on the tray a bowl, and on the bowl a lid – beautiful in their simplicity, and lightly decorated with grape clusters and leaves on each piece. We inherited it from my mother more than twelve years ago. I remember how mother loved it. She certainly kept it polished. Faithfully, she polished it, as both you and she might say.
Sadly, more than sadly, almost sinfully, I never polished it once, even once, in all those years.
But then here you come along with an hour-long interview with your sister and her husband about Christmas toys, and I thought, “Opportunity knocks! I’ll polish the silver set while I listen to their conversation.”
Little did I know. The closest thing to an instruction in your post was the word “slather.” There was also a fair bit about elbow grease, but with a cautionary note about not rubbing too hard. What’s a neophyte to do with words like those? Besides, for you and your kids, it’s a big chore because you have so much stuff to polish. We have just a three-piece set. How hard could it be?
Turns out, I actually needed detailed instructions. Very detailed.
“It’s hard to make things foolproof because fools are so ingenious.” I picked that up somewhere. Could be a motto.
How much polishing paste should one apply? A thin film? A layer? Glops? Glomps? The answer turns out to be glomps, preceded by a thorough rinse of the silver under the faucet, undried. Then glomps and glomps. Glomp it wet onto the wet silver. Let them glomps sink in. Let ‘em mingle with the tarnish - with the tarnish on the silver from the mines of Tarshish, where the miners sit around polishing silver all day. (I’ll bet Tarshish is where the word tarnish comes from.)
But that’s just the beginning. What about gloves? I scrounged a pair of latex gloves. Good thing.
What about polish? We had two tubs, as aged as good wines, with a volume about like your wine goblets I reckon; and we had a bottle about the size of a Head and Shoulders. All plastic containers, sad to say, cuz we don’t want no plastic, do we?
I went by color. You wrote “pink,” but I picked the Haggerty paste the color of our caboose, sometimes called Tuscan. Kind of a dark carnelian.
Now, a side problem. How to restart the YouTube video of you, your sis, and her hub, with polishing paste all over my latex-bedecked fingers? I have a rolling-ball mouse currently, and found that my elbow worked. Head and shoulders knees and toes. Polishing silver demands it all.
And how to keep the desk and mouse pad and my clothing clean? Oh, yeah. My Carhartt shirt! Newspapers for the desk, and towels everywhere for everything else, though every time I stood up to rinse a piece of glomped-on silver, I scattered towels on all sides. And there was no shielding the Carhartt.
Which brings up another thing about towels. You gotta wash ‘em after. Is the silver polish – now spread upon every object in my study – it is septic safe? Omigosh. I sure hope so. At the end, I just washed it all. Hello, septic-system bacteria! Hope this stuff is tasty and nutritious!
What else? Well, how about the glomped-on paste in the interstices of the leaves and grape clusters decorating each part of the silver set? Q-tips dug out some of it. But many of the spaces between were too tiny. Running hot water over the filigrees helped raise some of it. But then my mother – God rest her soul! – came to the rescue. When I came around to the bowl, I saw that she herself had left paste in the hollows of the grape clusters. Whew! Thanks, mom! Don’t tell Regina.
Little remains to be told. Only the cleaning up afterwards. Lots of cleaning up. Lots.
Now I’ve gone back and re-read your post, Regina. Should’ve done so before watching your YouTube conversation with Alicia and Mike. The penitential spirit you brought to it would’ve helped. Less cussing.
BTW, our little silver set is now a spark of light in our living room. 😊
Such an exquisite piece, Regina! Thank you!
Whoosh! In one ear and gone tomorrow!
By the time I got around to acting on this post, I had forgotten entirely the spirit of homesteading toughness you meant to convey, the penitential discipline, the instruction to children. Instead, my only takeaway was:
“Polish the silver, Bob. Regina wants you to polish the silver.”
Our only silver is a matched set – a tray, and on the tray a bowl, and on the bowl a lid – beautiful in their simplicity, and lightly decorated with grape clusters and leaves on each piece. We inherited it from my mother more than twelve years ago. I remember how mother loved it. She certainly kept it polished. Faithfully, she polished it, as both you and she might say.
Sadly, more than sadly, almost sinfully, I never polished it once, even once, in all those years.
But then here you come along with an hour-long interview with your sister and her husband about Christmas toys, and I thought, “Opportunity knocks! I’ll polish the silver set while I listen to their conversation.”
Little did I know. The closest thing to an instruction in your post was the word “slather.” There was also a fair bit about elbow grease, but with a cautionary note about not rubbing too hard. What’s a neophyte to do with words like those? Besides, for you and your kids, it’s a big chore because you have so much stuff to polish. We have just a three-piece set. How hard could it be?
Turns out, I actually needed detailed instructions. Very detailed.
“It’s hard to make things foolproof because fools are so ingenious.” I picked that up somewhere. Could be a motto.
How much polishing paste should one apply? A thin film? A layer? Glops? Glomps? The answer turns out to be glomps, preceded by a thorough rinse of the silver under the faucet, undried. Then glomps and glomps. Glomp it wet onto the wet silver. Let them glomps sink in. Let ‘em mingle with the tarnish - with the tarnish on the silver from the mines of Tarshish, where the miners sit around polishing silver all day. (I’ll bet Tarshish is where the word tarnish comes from.)
But that’s just the beginning. What about gloves? I scrounged a pair of latex gloves. Good thing.
What about polish? We had two tubs, as aged as good wines, with a volume about like your wine goblets I reckon; and we had a bottle about the size of a Head and Shoulders. All plastic containers, sad to say, cuz we don’t want no plastic, do we?
I went by color. You wrote “pink,” but I picked the Haggerty paste the color of our caboose, sometimes called Tuscan. Kind of a dark carnelian.
Now, a side problem. How to restart the YouTube video of you, your sis, and her hub, with polishing paste all over my latex-bedecked fingers? I have a rolling-ball mouse currently, and found that my elbow worked. Head and shoulders knees and toes. Polishing silver demands it all.
And how to keep the desk and mouse pad and my clothing clean? Oh, yeah. My Carhartt shirt! Newspapers for the desk, and towels everywhere for everything else, though every time I stood up to rinse a piece of glomped-on silver, I scattered towels on all sides. And there was no shielding the Carhartt.
Which brings up another thing about towels. You gotta wash ‘em after. Is the silver polish – now spread upon every object in my study – it is septic safe? Omigosh. I sure hope so. At the end, I just washed it all. Hello, septic-system bacteria! Hope this stuff is tasty and nutritious!
What else? Well, how about the glomped-on paste in the interstices of the leaves and grape clusters decorating each part of the silver set? Q-tips dug out some of it. But many of the spaces between were too tiny. Running hot water over the filigrees helped raise some of it. But then my mother – God rest her soul! – came to the rescue. When I came around to the bowl, I saw that she herself had left paste in the hollows of the grape clusters. Whew! Thanks, mom! Don’t tell Regina.
Little remains to be told. Only the cleaning up afterwards. Lots of cleaning up. Lots.
Now I’ve gone back and re-read your post, Regina. Should’ve done so before watching your YouTube conversation with Alicia and Mike. The penitential spirit you brought to it would’ve helped. Less cussing.
BTW, our little silver set is now a spark of light in our living room. 😊
Lol, loved this! You should post a picture. :)