Soldiers & Sailors Monument
New York City, 1907
We Will Always Remember.
Happy Memorial Day and Enjoy!
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Friday, May 17, 2013
Different is not Wrong, It's Merely Different
Yung-Cheng, Emperor of China in 1727 said:
"The people of the world are bigoted and unenlightened. Invariably, they regard what is like them as right and what is different from them as wrong, resulting in mutual recrimination. They do not realize that the types of humanity are not uniform and that their customs are also not one, that it is not only impossible to force people to become different but also impossible to force them to become alike."
In teaching etiquette classes we always say: It is neither right nor wrong, just different.
Remember these words when travelling on vacation this Summer and enjoy!
"The people of the world are bigoted and unenlightened. Invariably, they regard what is like them as right and what is different from them as wrong, resulting in mutual recrimination. They do not realize that the types of humanity are not uniform and that their customs are also not one, that it is not only impossible to force people to become different but also impossible to force them to become alike."
In teaching etiquette classes we always say: It is neither right nor wrong, just different.
Remember these words when travelling on vacation this Summer and enjoy!
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Hello It's "Helouise's Housekeeping Hints" Time Again
Cleaning our my dear Mother's house last week after her passing, I found a book I apparently liked as a child as I had lovingly scribbled on the inside of this red and yellow treasure. I had not seen this book since I was very little, and it drew up an immediate smile to my face as I remembered our kitchen with the radio on and my Mother happily holding this book reading it to me.
Heloise's Housekeeping Hints was published in 1962. Born in 1961, I most likely wrote my version of script handwriting in it around 1964. Very different America back then. Women were mostly at home as homemakers. Women were in charge of the household budgets. Cash budgets. No credit cards. Women were in charge of the weekly grocery bill, as in the cash they were given by their husbands, to spend on groceries for the week. T he cash they had at hand was it, the end of the spending. Stick to your list, my Mother always said. She did not throw away anything and she wasted nothing. We've all heard the expression: "Waste not, want not." Well it is true, and Heloise is here to help!
So, here are some of Heloise's helpful household hints to save a few calories and maybe a few bucks:
Heloise's Housekeeping Hints was published in 1962. Born in 1961, I most likely wrote my version of script handwriting in it around 1964. Very different America back then. Women were mostly at home as homemakers. Women were in charge of the household budgets. Cash budgets. No credit cards. Women were in charge of the weekly grocery bill, as in the cash they were given by their husbands, to spend on groceries for the week. T he cash they had at hand was it, the end of the spending. Stick to your list, my Mother always said. She did not throw away anything and she wasted nothing. We've all heard the expression: "Waste not, want not." Well it is true, and Heloise is here to help!
So, here are some of Heloise's helpful household hints to save a few calories and maybe a few bucks:
- When frying hamburgers, do not grease the skillet. Just sprinkle a bit of salt on the bottom of the pan and place the unsalted hamburger patties on top. The burgers will fry in their own juice.
- Salt in a frying pan will also keep meat from spattering. Nothing worse than bacon when it pops and you get burnt!
- Any recipe (cake waffles, pancakes) which calls for eggs is made better by separating the yoke from the white and adding them into the mix separately. This process makes the batter lighter and with more air bubbles.
- If your waffle recipe calls for 1 egg, try 2 eggs and separate their whites from their yokes and add separately. Your waffles will be as light as a cloud.
- Leftover potatoes of any type can be mashed and made into delicious "potato patties" for breakfast the next morning. One may also add a chopped onion and an egg. Mix, mash, mold your patties, salt and pepper if you wish, and fry up with a pat of butter. Yum!
- To make most vegetables and lettuce last longer in the fridge, wrap produce in paper towels and place in a zip lock bag, but make sure to let all the air out and place zip lock bags in the produce bin in the fridge if you have one. Replace paper towels after 2-3 days, and most vegetables will last up to one week, or maybe more. Also, chop them as you go. Keeping produce intact helps them last longer.
- If you have leftover carrots and potatoes, and don't know what to do with them, boil, then mash them all together to make orange colored mashed potatoes. Your kids will love the color and the new flavor!
- Parsley, chives, spring onions, and carrots, which you can grow in your garden for little cost, can be washed, trimmed, dried in a towel, wrapped in foil and frozen to be later added to tomato soup and served with croutons you can make with day old (or older) bread.
- To rid your nails and your wooden cutting board of bacteria and a seafood or fish smell, rub them with the remainder of a lemon or lime. The acid from the lemon or lime is the trick!
- To make gravy without lumps, mix 2 tablespoons of flour with 1 cup of cold water, then add to the pan juices and stir gravy.
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
Remember to Forget-Me-Not My Journey, Even in Death
Sitting quietly next to Mom in the Nursing Home Dining Room, as she picked the pieces of carrot out of her vegetable soup, she said: "I've never understood warm strawberries, have you?" Gently smiling, I quietly answered: "No, I never have."
Remembering the words of a kind friend twenty-five years ago regarding the death of his Father, he said: "As children of our parents, we all have our turn." Not forgetting my Mother's journey ahead of her, my Sister and I are both quite fortunate now to be able to have our turn with our Mother.
During her elongated dazed gazes, Mom's eyes would widen, as large as saucers, then would calm. Although the cause was most likely more T.I.A.'s (Transient Ischemic Attacks), her soul seemed to be traveling in and out of her body. Her mind seemed to be in and out of conscious, however, somehow subconsciously, on some level, she was aware of what was going on with her health when in the present. She drifted back and forth from present life to childhood, young adulthood, and present again. Confused and disoriented, Mom sometimes seemed more lucid than not, but the Doctor said not really. She seemed to be clearer in her thoughts than not, but could not speak the exact words, yet we knew what she meant by her manner, expressive eyes, and tone of voice.
At only 78, there sat my Mother, beautiful, brilliant, always ahead of her time and fiercely independent, slumping in her wheelchair next to me. She was frail, gaunt and pale, with a ghost like yet luminous complexion. As a Hospice nurse my Sister says many of her patients have this angelic glow to their skin. Mom still possessed her Lauren Bacall looks, high cheek bones, and "Jackie O" aura even after her weight loss and heart attack and the entire nursing staff often commented on Mom's beauty. Yet, she was sadly now a physical and mental hollow shell of the woman I had grown up with and so altered after the heart attack with recognizable full blown dementia. As her eldest daughter, of course I grew up in awe of her, admiring and aspiring to act, talk, walk and dress just like my mother.
My Sister returned from the nurses station and sat down with us. Mom had, again, only eaten a few bites and did not want the chocolate pudding, her favorite. Suddenly, Mom perked up, her eyes growing wide, again, as she said: "Kathy, you may have my pudding because I am in a hurry. I have an appointment soon with a woman about my departure." I reticently looked up at my Sister and her facial expression had changed to one of surprise, then a knowing look came over her face. As we wheeled Mom out of the Dining Room, I quietly whispered to my Sister if the nursing home has a "Departure Counselor" and of course, she nodded a "No."
Tired now, Mom wanted to lay down. She began fussing the wheelchair was not lined up properly so she could swivel herself onto the bed. She started giving orders in her weak Katharine Hepburn voice about her wheelchair should be lined up against the bed, the gently used wheelchair she had frugally purchased for Christmas, thinking she had gotten a deal. She knew the breaks were not sufficient as did my sister and I, so I gently answered: "Don't worry, Mom, we've got you."
After about five minutes of seemingly painful, mostly fearful "Ahhhh's", and frustrating "Ohhhh's", struggling to stand and balance herself, with the aid of my Sister lifting Mom from the front and myself balancing her from behind, she was able to sit on her bed and rest. She did not rest, however, but immediately wanted her security blanket, her control mechanism; her purse. Within this purse, for as long as I can remember, Mom carried her wallet, checkbook, toothbrush and lipstick. Always reapplying the same shade of lipstick she had worn since my childhood. "Where is my wallet? I want my checkbook. I need to pay some bills." Out Mom pulled her checkbook from the small, leather trimmed, navy canvas purse, and with slow, shaky manicured hands, began to try to pay a few bills my sister and I had brought her.
My Sister left to go speak with the nurses, and I sat quietly, marking with a permanent marker Mom's last name in all of her clothing including her socks and unmentionables, as required by the nursing home for their laundry service. I thought of the many years Mom had written our names in our clothing for the summer camp laundry.
Patiently, I watched and waited as my mentor, completely perplexed, confusingly sorted and tore through her bills for forty full minutes. Mom was Valedictorian of her 1952 High School class. Mensa in math, she was one of 2 women in a class of 10,000 to graduate University with a B.S. in Business Administration in 1956. She was always a woman ahead of her time. It was hard for my sister and I to see Mom so declined, yet she was determined to pay these bills as though all were normal. To my surprise while watching her, Mom wrote our childhood address and phone number on the back 'address change' portion of one of the bills. She then filled in whatever dollar amount on whichever payment portion of any bill and stuffed them randomly into an envelope sealing each with a dry lick...without the check enclosed. Heart wrenching to watch, but a crucially important exercise for Mom. Paramount for her to maintain dignity, relevance, purpose, and normalcy in her mind.
Two years ago, Mom's weekly Bridge partner became very sick with Cancer, then died. Another Bridge partner developed Alzheimer's. Her college boyfriend she had recently caught up with suddenly died from an aneurysm. She stopped looking for more Bridge partners, then stopped playing Bridge all together. She stopped going to church. She stopped volunteering in local Politics. She stopped watching television, sewing and laughing. I thought to myself after listening to her tone on the phone she had lost her natural 'Joie de Vivre' for life. Then, her health started to slowly fail.
Soon thereafter, Mom told my Sister she thought she had made bad choices in her life. Yes, we all do make a thousand different little and large decisions every day about how we choose to live our lives. And, all of our choices are not always stellar, but it is important in life to get the big choices right, not to live one's life moving from one bad choice to the next bad choice.
As a young girl, I remember Mom driving me to tap dancing, ballet, piano and horse riding lessons. She took us to movies and Museums during the week when my Father was away working. She took us to plays on Broadway and out to dinner with the adults while visiting my Grandparents on the weekends. She taught us our table manners by serving us a fried egg on a plate and toast on a bread & Butter plate every Sunday after Church. She drove us always on our vacations and weekend breaks to every cultural attraction and historic marker along the highway. She let us have breakfast for dinner. She fed us Swiss Cheese Fondue with French bread, our favorite mod dinner in the 1960's.
A few years later, Mom chose to have that cigarette. She chose to drink three fingers of bourbon, instead of two fingers of bourbon each night. She chose to have that English Muffin with triple fruit marmalade. She chose to loose faith. She chose to let the bitterness into her heart.
The surprisingly delightful treat of our journey this week with our Mom, was seeing brief glimpses of her happy, young soul, and her kind, hopeful, free spirit we had not witnessed since we were very little. During a visit, my Sister said to Mom: "We'll be back this afternoon to visit you, OK?" Mom looked up with longing eyes and sweetly said: "Promise?" This melted us both to soft butter.
Yesterday, my husband and I called Mom. We asked what she was doing. She answered: "Counting my address book." We answered: "Oh, OK. We are counting the Red breasted Robins in the yard. They are waiting on Spring." Mom loves birds, gardening and bird watching from the porch. She laughed a bit and weakly at that. She then said: "I'm getting stronger every day. Do you have my car keys? I need to do my laundry."
Mom was admitted to the Hospice Unit this week. It's nice. She has a private room. I decorated it with her Mother's linen table toppers, her dresser mirror and perfume bottles, fresh potted hydrangeas, a beautiful large multi-colored basket of dried field flowers, old photographs, and a few random pictures of Golden Retriever dogs which she adores. There is a full moon this week. My Sister says she is swamped every full moon in her Hospice work. It's kind of cosmic and may have something to do with the lunar pull or the high tides, who knows, but many of her Hospice patients pass away during full moons. So, we just pray and are thankful our Mother is safe, warm, well taken care of, and happy.
Mom died today, this Easter Sunday. My Sister and I consider ourselves fortunate to have had our "turn" with our Mother and we hope in her eyes, we will have done our well best to remember to have given her a dignified journey filled with a sense of worth, purpose and peace in a life well done, for worse and for better, and peace everlasting.
Remembering the words of a kind friend twenty-five years ago regarding the death of his Father, he said: "As children of our parents, we all have our turn." Not forgetting my Mother's journey ahead of her, my Sister and I are both quite fortunate now to be able to have our turn with our Mother.
During her elongated dazed gazes, Mom's eyes would widen, as large as saucers, then would calm. Although the cause was most likely more T.I.A.'s (Transient Ischemic Attacks), her soul seemed to be traveling in and out of her body. Her mind seemed to be in and out of conscious, however, somehow subconsciously, on some level, she was aware of what was going on with her health when in the present. She drifted back and forth from present life to childhood, young adulthood, and present again. Confused and disoriented, Mom sometimes seemed more lucid than not, but the Doctor said not really. She seemed to be clearer in her thoughts than not, but could not speak the exact words, yet we knew what she meant by her manner, expressive eyes, and tone of voice.
At only 78, there sat my Mother, beautiful, brilliant, always ahead of her time and fiercely independent, slumping in her wheelchair next to me. She was frail, gaunt and pale, with a ghost like yet luminous complexion. As a Hospice nurse my Sister says many of her patients have this angelic glow to their skin. Mom still possessed her Lauren Bacall looks, high cheek bones, and "Jackie O" aura even after her weight loss and heart attack and the entire nursing staff often commented on Mom's beauty. Yet, she was sadly now a physical and mental hollow shell of the woman I had grown up with and so altered after the heart attack with recognizable full blown dementia. As her eldest daughter, of course I grew up in awe of her, admiring and aspiring to act, talk, walk and dress just like my mother.
My Sister returned from the nurses station and sat down with us. Mom had, again, only eaten a few bites and did not want the chocolate pudding, her favorite. Suddenly, Mom perked up, her eyes growing wide, again, as she said: "Kathy, you may have my pudding because I am in a hurry. I have an appointment soon with a woman about my departure." I reticently looked up at my Sister and her facial expression had changed to one of surprise, then a knowing look came over her face. As we wheeled Mom out of the Dining Room, I quietly whispered to my Sister if the nursing home has a "Departure Counselor" and of course, she nodded a "No."
Tired now, Mom wanted to lay down. She began fussing the wheelchair was not lined up properly so she could swivel herself onto the bed. She started giving orders in her weak Katharine Hepburn voice about her wheelchair should be lined up against the bed, the gently used wheelchair she had frugally purchased for Christmas, thinking she had gotten a deal. She knew the breaks were not sufficient as did my sister and I, so I gently answered: "Don't worry, Mom, we've got you."
After about five minutes of seemingly painful, mostly fearful "Ahhhh's", and frustrating "Ohhhh's", struggling to stand and balance herself, with the aid of my Sister lifting Mom from the front and myself balancing her from behind, she was able to sit on her bed and rest. She did not rest, however, but immediately wanted her security blanket, her control mechanism; her purse. Within this purse, for as long as I can remember, Mom carried her wallet, checkbook, toothbrush and lipstick. Always reapplying the same shade of lipstick she had worn since my childhood. "Where is my wallet? I want my checkbook. I need to pay some bills." Out Mom pulled her checkbook from the small, leather trimmed, navy canvas purse, and with slow, shaky manicured hands, began to try to pay a few bills my sister and I had brought her.
My Sister left to go speak with the nurses, and I sat quietly, marking with a permanent marker Mom's last name in all of her clothing including her socks and unmentionables, as required by the nursing home for their laundry service. I thought of the many years Mom had written our names in our clothing for the summer camp laundry.
Patiently, I watched and waited as my mentor, completely perplexed, confusingly sorted and tore through her bills for forty full minutes. Mom was Valedictorian of her 1952 High School class. Mensa in math, she was one of 2 women in a class of 10,000 to graduate University with a B.S. in Business Administration in 1956. She was always a woman ahead of her time. It was hard for my sister and I to see Mom so declined, yet she was determined to pay these bills as though all were normal. To my surprise while watching her, Mom wrote our childhood address and phone number on the back 'address change' portion of one of the bills. She then filled in whatever dollar amount on whichever payment portion of any bill and stuffed them randomly into an envelope sealing each with a dry lick...without the check enclosed. Heart wrenching to watch, but a crucially important exercise for Mom. Paramount for her to maintain dignity, relevance, purpose, and normalcy in her mind.
Two years ago, Mom's weekly Bridge partner became very sick with Cancer, then died. Another Bridge partner developed Alzheimer's. Her college boyfriend she had recently caught up with suddenly died from an aneurysm. She stopped looking for more Bridge partners, then stopped playing Bridge all together. She stopped going to church. She stopped volunteering in local Politics. She stopped watching television, sewing and laughing. I thought to myself after listening to her tone on the phone she had lost her natural 'Joie de Vivre' for life. Then, her health started to slowly fail.
Soon thereafter, Mom told my Sister she thought she had made bad choices in her life. Yes, we all do make a thousand different little and large decisions every day about how we choose to live our lives. And, all of our choices are not always stellar, but it is important in life to get the big choices right, not to live one's life moving from one bad choice to the next bad choice.
As a young girl, I remember Mom driving me to tap dancing, ballet, piano and horse riding lessons. She took us to movies and Museums during the week when my Father was away working. She took us to plays on Broadway and out to dinner with the adults while visiting my Grandparents on the weekends. She taught us our table manners by serving us a fried egg on a plate and toast on a bread & Butter plate every Sunday after Church. She drove us always on our vacations and weekend breaks to every cultural attraction and historic marker along the highway. She let us have breakfast for dinner. She fed us Swiss Cheese Fondue with French bread, our favorite mod dinner in the 1960's.
A few years later, Mom chose to have that cigarette. She chose to drink three fingers of bourbon, instead of two fingers of bourbon each night. She chose to have that English Muffin with triple fruit marmalade. She chose to loose faith. She chose to let the bitterness into her heart.
The surprisingly delightful treat of our journey this week with our Mom, was seeing brief glimpses of her happy, young soul, and her kind, hopeful, free spirit we had not witnessed since we were very little. During a visit, my Sister said to Mom: "We'll be back this afternoon to visit you, OK?" Mom looked up with longing eyes and sweetly said: "Promise?" This melted us both to soft butter.
Yesterday, my husband and I called Mom. We asked what she was doing. She answered: "Counting my address book." We answered: "Oh, OK. We are counting the Red breasted Robins in the yard. They are waiting on Spring." Mom loves birds, gardening and bird watching from the porch. She laughed a bit and weakly at that. She then said: "I'm getting stronger every day. Do you have my car keys? I need to do my laundry."
Mom was admitted to the Hospice Unit this week. It's nice. She has a private room. I decorated it with her Mother's linen table toppers, her dresser mirror and perfume bottles, fresh potted hydrangeas, a beautiful large multi-colored basket of dried field flowers, old photographs, and a few random pictures of Golden Retriever dogs which she adores. There is a full moon this week. My Sister says she is swamped every full moon in her Hospice work. It's kind of cosmic and may have something to do with the lunar pull or the high tides, who knows, but many of her Hospice patients pass away during full moons. So, we just pray and are thankful our Mother is safe, warm, well taken care of, and happy.
Mom died today, this Easter Sunday. My Sister and I consider ourselves fortunate to have had our "turn" with our Mother and we hope in her eyes, we will have done our well best to remember to have given her a dignified journey filled with a sense of worth, purpose and peace in a life well done, for worse and for better, and peace everlasting.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Carson the Butler's Bouillon Spoon, Cup & Saucer
Last week on Downton Abbey, the audience is brought in on a scene where Carson the Butler is displaying and explaining various flat silver serving pieces to the Second Footmen. The newly hired Footman correctly guesses all the pieces save, at last, the poor old Bouillon Spoon.
Bouillon is served at a formal or informal Luncheon as a light course, where there may be only one wine served for the whole of the Luncheon. Because Bouillon is a thin broth, it is not thought to be substantial enough to be served with its own wine at a multiple course dinner with multiple wines. Poor Bouillon.
The Bouillon Spoon looks like a shorter stumpier version of the more popular and recognizable Cream Soup Spoon. It is used with the Bouillon Cup and Saucer which is a smaller version of the Cream Soup Bowl and Saucer, or Stand. It is smaller because Bouillon broth cools quickly as it is a thin broth.
The Bouillon Cup and Cream Soup Bowl are hand honed and have two handles, one on either side of the cup or bowl. Unlike the Cream Soup Bowl, the Bouillon Cup, may be drunk out of by the handles, or sipped from the bouillon spoon. The spoon is then placed on the saucer, never on the tablecloth, place mat or table.
In conclusion, as a light soup, bouillon is light and lovely at a Luncheon. Enjoy!
Bouillon is served at a formal or informal Luncheon as a light course, where there may be only one wine served for the whole of the Luncheon. Because Bouillon is a thin broth, it is not thought to be substantial enough to be served with its own wine at a multiple course dinner with multiple wines. Poor Bouillon.
The Bouillon Spoon looks like a shorter stumpier version of the more popular and recognizable Cream Soup Spoon. It is used with the Bouillon Cup and Saucer which is a smaller version of the Cream Soup Bowl and Saucer, or Stand. It is smaller because Bouillon broth cools quickly as it is a thin broth.
The Bouillon Cup and Cream Soup Bowl are hand honed and have two handles, one on either side of the cup or bowl. Unlike the Cream Soup Bowl, the Bouillon Cup, may be drunk out of by the handles, or sipped from the bouillon spoon. The spoon is then placed on the saucer, never on the tablecloth, place mat or table.
In conclusion, as a light soup, bouillon is light and lovely at a Luncheon. Enjoy!
Friday, February 1, 2013
Be Careful of Negitave, Shocking Posts on Facebook
As the Dowager Countess on Downton Abbey says: "Don't be defeatist dear, it's very middle class." It's true.
Please be careful about posting very personal, mostly negative, possibly upsetting information on Facebook. Like your Mother taught you, stick close to your good health and the weather.
After a certain age (about 25), adults have their own problems and do not need or want to constantly read about every detail of your ongoing problems, disasters and bad happenings in your life.
Pleasantly and mindlessly reading along on my Facebook feed one day, my eyes tripped up upon a post from a "friend" that stated: "Mr. 'So-in-so' has died in a car accident"...what? I was shocked. Reading on, I learned the deceased was NOT a family member or relative of the "friend" who posted this information, and the post was abrupt, tactless and the tone seemed to scream out for attention. I wondered to myself if the family of the deceased knew of this Facebook posting and what they would think.
Moral of the story, do not use Facebook as a negative attention getting vehicle. If you need attention because you are sick, depressed, having a bad day or life in general, legal problems, or a family member is in the hospital, Hospice, or has tragically died, call someone. Do not post sudden deaths, shocking or "downer" information on Facebook. It does not come across well.
Facebook can be an appropriate and convenient vehicle in which to post the passing of loved ones assuming this potentially devastating information is posted gently, carefully, tastefully and in the most positive light possible, including informational and directional links for those readers interested, such as an on-line obituary link or funeral information. In this light, a posting of this type can be fast, convenient and helpful to everyone involved.
Again, as your Mother says, "Do not wash your laundry in public."
Mother always knows best!
Please be careful about posting very personal, mostly negative, possibly upsetting information on Facebook. Like your Mother taught you, stick close to your good health and the weather.
After a certain age (about 25), adults have their own problems and do not need or want to constantly read about every detail of your ongoing problems, disasters and bad happenings in your life.
Pleasantly and mindlessly reading along on my Facebook feed one day, my eyes tripped up upon a post from a "friend" that stated: "Mr. 'So-in-so' has died in a car accident"...what? I was shocked. Reading on, I learned the deceased was NOT a family member or relative of the "friend" who posted this information, and the post was abrupt, tactless and the tone seemed to scream out for attention. I wondered to myself if the family of the deceased knew of this Facebook posting and what they would think.
Moral of the story, do not use Facebook as a negative attention getting vehicle. If you need attention because you are sick, depressed, having a bad day or life in general, legal problems, or a family member is in the hospital, Hospice, or has tragically died, call someone. Do not post sudden deaths, shocking or "downer" information on Facebook. It does not come across well.
Facebook can be an appropriate and convenient vehicle in which to post the passing of loved ones assuming this potentially devastating information is posted gently, carefully, tastefully and in the most positive light possible, including informational and directional links for those readers interested, such as an on-line obituary link or funeral information. In this light, a posting of this type can be fast, convenient and helpful to everyone involved.
Again, as your Mother says, "Do not wash your laundry in public."
Mother always knows best!
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Breakfast at Downton
Yes, 8 Million Americans and 120 Million Worldwide watchers are obsessed with Britain's Downton Abbey.
Why? Because in a PG kind-of way, Downton is the new Sex And The City, hitting a pitch perfect chord with its viewers. Simply put: it is nice TV.
In this British land of the Landed Gentry, these wealthy characters live by the traditional Noblesse Oblige mantra. They are all well dressed, well mannered, polite people. They respect each other, save the occasional slightly naughty character, and they live their lives as we all live our lives. Same struggles. Same goals. All just trying to do better for themselves, their family, friends, and community.
So, here are a few Breakfast at Downton tips:
Why? Because in a PG kind-of way, Downton is the new Sex And The City, hitting a pitch perfect chord with its viewers. Simply put: it is nice TV.
In this British land of the Landed Gentry, these wealthy characters live by the traditional Noblesse Oblige mantra. They are all well dressed, well mannered, polite people. They respect each other, save the occasional slightly naughty character, and they live their lives as we all live our lives. Same struggles. Same goals. All just trying to do better for themselves, their family, friends, and community.
So, here are a few Breakfast at Downton tips:
- Married ladies, by tradition, are allowed to have breakfast in bed, thus one does not have to dress to go downstairs for breakfast. (I remember my Mother always mentioning 'Breakfast in Bed' as a luxury to her). A nice perk for a married lady indeed!
- Breakfast consisted of eggs, ham, bacon, devilled kidneys, tongue, oatmeal and "Post Toasties" (Cornflakes) cereal from America!
- Morning papers were ironed to dry the ink, so the Lord and Lady would not get ink stains on their fingers.
- Footmen wore gloves and served all meals A La Russe.
- The most important person or honored guest always sits to the right of the host, or The Lord, and is served first.
- Serving "Ladies first" is Continental style used on the continent (as in France, not in England).
- Wealthy girls were taught how to keep a conversation going even with someone who was completely socially incapable, and even at breakfast with the non-morning person!
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