Eleven years ago, I began a search that culminated in disaster last week.
Elysha graduated from Smith College back in 1997. She adored her college experience, speaks of it often, and looks forward to reunions and visits to her alma mater.
Having attended college five years after high school while managing a McDonald’s restaurant full time, I have always been jealous of Elysha’s experience at Smith. College is very different when you’re balancing a restaurant P&L statement with an essay on Virginia Wolff.
When Elysha left Smith, she took several piece of Smith’s china with her:
Two salad plates. Two saucers. Two bowls.
By “take,” I mean she stole these pieces. She loves this china. The pieces remind her of the meals she enjoyed in Comstock with her friends, many of whom remain dear to her today.
Eleven years ago, while washing one of those bowls, Elysha said, “I wish I had a full set of this china.”
So launched my mission.
I began by contacting Smith College to see if they were still using the same china, and if so, could I purchase a set or be directed to where a set could be bought?
No luck.
They had moved on from Elysha’s beloved set and could not help me.
Next I identified the set and manufacturer from the markings on the bowls and plates (Maytime) and contacted them to see if I could purchase a set directly.
The company was no longer making the set.
So began my search of the internet for a complete set. I quickly discovered that complete sets exist, but as far as I can tell, only two complete sets are currently listed anywhere on the internet, and after some inquiries, I determined that neither was for sale. They had been previously sold at various auction sites, but none were available for purchase.
Next I set up Google Alert on all the words associated with Smith College and this particular brand and make of china, so that if a set or parts of a set ever became available, I would know immediately. Then I called the manufacturer back, established a point of contact, and requested to be informed if the set ever went into production again.
For the past decade, I have chased down leads on partial sets, complete sets, and individual pieces. I’ve called the manufacturer regularly to check on the status of the set, and I told friends about my search in hopes that they might have other ideas on how to locate a set.
Eleven years after I first began my search, in late October of 2021, I received a call from my contact at the manufacturer:
They were producing the set once again. It’s actually being branded as “Maytime for Smithies.”
I was promised one of the first sets.
I was ecstatic. On my list of long term surprises for Elysha, this was near the top.
A complete set of dinner plates, salad plates, bowls, cups, and saucers arrived at my home just prior to Christmas. Already having a Christmas surprise for Elysha, I decided to hold off until Valentine’s Day to surprise her with her Smithie china.
I couldn’t wait.
My plan was to cook dinner on Valentine’s Day and serve it on the china. Set the whole table with everything I had. I told my students about the plan, and one of them recommended that I purchase heart shaped placemats as well.
Exactly one week before Valentine’s Day, I was on a Zoom call with two clients, preparing for a speech at an upcoming company gathering in New York. One of the clients, Masha, has also become a good friend over the last year we’ve spent working together. We know each other well. She knows Elysha, too.
As we were wrapping up the call, Masha asked me what I had planned for Valentine’s Day. I leaned my head out of my office and shouted, “Honey are you home yet?”
No response, so I proceeded to tell Masha and her colleague about my plan. Just as I had revealed the surprise to them, I heard Elysha. She was standing in the adjacent room.
I couldn’t believe it.
“Did you hear that?” I shouted, holding my breath, hoping for “Heard what?”
Instead, I heard a resigned, “Yes.”
Seven days from the finish line of a journey that began more than 4,000 days ago, I had ruined the surprise with my big mouth.
I was so upset. I still am. I suspect I always will be.
Elysha is also upset. She’s upset with herself for not lying to me. She wishes that she had pretended not to hear. She wished she could’ve preserved the surprise for me.
But amidst the disappointment of the moment, and my ongoing disappointment, the one good thing in all of this was that Elysha didn’t lie to me. Her instinct wasn’t to fabricate some untruth in order to make me feel better and preserve the surprise for me.
Besides, the surprise wasn’t for me. It was for her.
The fact that she didn’t lie – didn’t even think about lying – makes me happy. It says a lot about her and even more about us.
Elysha is still touched by the gift and the effort and persistence required to make it happen, but I remain deeply disappointed. I think I always will. I was thrilled to give her this gift, more than a decade in the making – but the final flourish would’ve been so lovely. Instead, I never even got to see her face when she discovered the surprise.
She was standing in the other room, invisible to me.
I still can’t believe it.
