Eve Jacobson Funk (Howard) was a longtime friend of my mother’s. They had little in common other than what appeared to be mutual respect gained over time working together. My mother thought of Eve as being the “paragon of virtue,” meaning she neither drank nor smoked! Standards not too high on that judgment! In any case, one of Eve’s skills was most definitely as a very accomplished painter on fine china. The cup and saucer are treasures of a type now neither seen nor treasured. The delicacy of both the china and the glazing never cease to amaze me.

My parents won the “bachelor button” ornamented cup and saucer in the 1940s at The Georgian Room of the then Olympic Hotel (now Four Seasons) in downtown Seattle for their skill at waltzing. My mother always referred to it as the waltzing cup. A memory of a happy time for them.

While working for Qantas in Melbourne, I came to look forward to the twice-daily tea cart coming through the office under the charge of the two Marys, offering coffee, tea, and a bit of a chat. I thought highly of these wonderful women who made our days so much more interesting. To my surprise and delight, following my return to Seattle in 1971 they got in touch, saying they were coming to visit! I was so tickled, flattered, and amazed by this news. I recall having them come to the house no doubt for tea or a meal of some sort and may have taken them on a small tour, but I’m not certain about that. In any case, they had so thoughtfully brought me the cup and saucer adorned with roses. I treasure it.

These thoughts follow those earlier of the history of tea towels. I love the fact that at this point in life I have almost nothing that does not elicit a story. Nearly ever day I use a slotted spoon given to me by Jeanie so many years ago. I think of her each time I dip in the stock to retrieve a vegetable or some pasta. My long-gone cousin Barbara—mother’s niece—married three times to Sandy, to Ernie, and to Jimmy—all gone and surnames forgotten. I visited with her and Jimmy several times, both at Birch Bay and I recall a lunch in Bellingham. On one of those visits she gave me a vegetable peeler that she said was indispensable. I had one that was “perfectly good” and from our 1940s home kitchen, so let the new version sit in a kitchen drawer through several abodes. Finally took it out about a year ago and was delighted as to how the contour of the handle fits so well and makes peeling even the toughest winter squash a breeze—well, almost. Thoughts of Barbara travel with it.