I admit it, I have fork fetish.
According to the dictionary a fetish is described as:
-an inanimate object worshiped for its supposed magical powers
Now, to clarify, I haven’t gone to worshiping my fork or think that it’s magical, then again maybe I have.
When lunch rolls around and I need a fork, I will dig through the drawer looking for my favorite fork. If it’s not there I’ll frisk the drainer, and if it’s not there, I get a bit sad if I see it’s in the dirty dishes.
I’d say there’s nothing special about my fork, but obviously there is.
It’s an old silver fork from the early 1900’s. It’s slender, solid, heavy and gorgeous to look at.
I have second and third favorite forks, but if this one is in the drawer, hands down, I choose this one.
Sometimes I’ve wondered where it came from, who bought it first and the lives of those that owned it.
I have a second fork that we probably bought at a garage sale that is an old USN fork. I suppose I like that because I have a really soft place for veterans.
Now when we were first married, I had a set of silverware that was “gold plated” which meant it really wasn’t and the “gold” eventually peeled off, so that set hit the garbage post haste. Another set was the clunky wood handled ones, which when left in water, split, or the handles just became loose, so that set soon followed the gold plated ones. Next came a set with a “C” on the handle, there might be a few of those around, and then a set I inherited from my mother that was her original set.
I suppose most people buy a set of silverware and it stays in the kitchen.
I also suppose that most only have a couple of kids that are gone all day to school, then probably off to evening events.
I also assume that in these homes the husband is off to work all day and when he’s home, he has a shop in which there are all kinds of tools.
In our house neither of those are true.
We home schooled our kids, which meant we served 24 meals a day and for each the silverware came out of the drawer. And face it, when supper is over, you know the snacking isn’t.
Now for the most part when the kids were little, the only one that took silverware from the kitchen was probably the dad of this group.
See, if you don’t have a set of tools, and need to turn a screw, you go to the kitchen and get a knife out of the drawer.
If you make a root beer float and need to leave, the spoon goes with you, because you have to stir the thing right?
Our silverware has never been safe from being plundered.
I found out early on in our marriage, that arguing about the use of silverware or the location, was a losing battle.
At one point I remember considering plastic “silver”ware just so I could always have a matching set.
Now you might think I’m a little eccentric when it comes to my fork fetish, but I don’t think I am.
I noticed when we had the granddaughters out at lunch time, there was a long debate about which fork one of them wanted to use.
“Not that one, I don’t like it. No, I don’t want that one either. No….here, let me look!”
This grandma just grinned.
I completely understand her pain.
They always tell you to think about what you put in your body, and I think that applies to forks as well.
I’m not sure which fork it was the little girl wanted, but I know for me, it’s my early 19o0’s era fork, that the silversmiths of the day knew exactly how to make. It feels and looks, well, it’s perfection.
And now that my lunch is cold, I will eat it, with my favorite fork.