Mom's remembrance of a dinner party.

Mom and Dad were newly married and living in a small three
room apartment in Jackson Heights. She loved to have friends
over for a "fancy" dinner and use all the beautiful wedding gifts
and her sterling silver flatware. Her parents always had extra people
around the dinner table and of course her Father would carve the
roast and serve the main courses from the head of the table. And her
Mother would sit at the opposite end and trade retorts with her husband.

Mother had invited three couples to dinner. To accomodate eight at table,
they had to open the dining table into the living room and elbow into the
table. It was a small aparment. The table was set perfectly, and Mom had
all the food assembled in her high style, showing off those precious wedding
gifts. So the roast beef was placed at the head of the table by my Dad and
Mom said to Dad "Dick would you please carve and serve the beef." And
Dad nodded and obliged her.

Dad had grown up in Ohio. His Father had died when he was eight years old.
He was raised by his sister who had to abandon college after the death of her
Father and by his Mother who never relented on her anger at the early death
of her husband. Her children would support her and be with her always. She
played the long suffering widow until her death at age one hundred. She
represented all the duty centered behaivor of the Victorian Age.

Dad began to struggle with the roast. And Mom made several trips to the kitchen
for a "sharper" knife, Dad chased the roast all around the platter, trying to complete
his task. It soon became evident to all that he was a.) not an experienced carver and
b.) that if he continued butchering the cow in this manner there would not be
enough to go round the table. Dad seemed non plussed. The guests were trying to
control their anxiety. And Mom finally said, "Dick, I think I'll complete the carving
in the kitchen!" There was an unasperated sigh of relief among the guests.

Little known to Mom was that Dad had never carved a roast before. In his
frugally managed growing up, his Mother had prepared and doled out the
portions in the kitchen and presented the meager serving on plate directly to
her very thin children. Mom was unaware of this until the summer visits to
Ohio became part of our childhood.

At future dinner parties Mom decided to carve in the kitchen and let Dad do the
serving from the head of the table. And I remember growing up with a Dad
who never learned the craft of carving, but was always ready to try sometimes
with success, but not always.