Austin, TEXAS, January 28, 2006 — First a couple of true stories. Well, as true as one can make a story based on memory and hearsay evidence. Which is to say better than James Frey true but with some possible holes or exaggerations.

When I was a little kid, we were eating at my Aunt Mary's house. [Ed. Note: She doesn't actually remember this, but she was told this story by her mother and other collaborators and it certainly seems like it could be true.]

Anyway. I held aloft the napkin and said, "What is this rag for?" In our house, napkins were paper. A linen napkin was a truly

amazing thing. My Aunt Mary was rather a proper lady, an old maid when there still were such things. Many entries could be devoted to her, but let's just say here that she longed for the finer things (china, silver, linen, sitting down to a properly set table for a nice dinner) and got some of them.

Second true story. I am a kid of ten, eleven, twelve, something like that. Another aunt is visiting. This one is my idol. She is twenty years younger than Aunt Mary (who is her older sister). She is in the Navy. My mother asks me to set the table. I rebel. It might have even involved running up the street with my young aunt in pursuit trying to make me do it. It wasn't really that I didn't want to do the table setting. It was just that I couldn't remember how as in whether the fork went left or right (left and right often baffled me then and sometimes sneak up on me now). Rather than ask and feel stupid, I would refuse to do it and look churlish. I'm not sure anyone ever recounted this story to me so it has all the misty crust of time and brain but only the embellishment of me retelling it to myself.

Some friends gave a birthday dinner party for another of our friends tonight. They let her choose the other five guests besides her and them. She brought a guy who is, I guess, her boyfriend or, at least, someone she goes out with. She invited us and another couple.

The folks giving the party have more money than we do. I'm not normally troubled by this. I've been in their home before for drinks and hors d'oeuvres parties, buffets, a meeting, in home concerts. I gawked at the paintings and nice artifacts with everyone else. I didn't feel uncomfortable. It would be too strong to say that I felt uncomfortable tonight. The host couple was completely gracious and the one server helpful and friendly.

No, I wasn't uncomfortable. I knew what fork to use when. I could have set the table. Salad fork far left, to be used first, then dinner fork. Fork at top of plate for dessert. If a spoon was in order for dessert it would be there. It was done up with the most beautiful china and silver and linens. There was priceless artwork in the room and silver done to a beautiful sheen on the sideboard. I was looking at everything and thinking what chumps we were. How we scramble to set a table. We've never owned anything like this china and silver. (We do have twelve place settings of a fairly nice pattern of china, but the only silver we have is mismatched pieces acquired from garage sales and such. We have twelve place settings of a really nice stainless pattern from France. I thought we'd arrived when we acquired those.) Someone commented on the beautiful glass coasters under the water glasses to catch condensation. One of the hosts said they came from Fortnum and Mason. The other couple that had been invited had mentioned that they were going to London next week. I offered that it was fun to have tea at Fortnum and Mason.

Yeah, we've come a long way. I know what the rag is for and how to set the table and have eaten in some pretty gracious places. But we are still chumps. Poor kids brought up eating on Melmac with paper napkins who can, if pressed, set a pretty nice table but will never be able to entertain with this kind of setup. Oh, I guess we could if we set it as a priority. Some charity is probably glad that we didn't acquire the silver and china necessary to do something like this just like certain charities are glad we drive a Honda instead of a Mercedes because the ongoing savings has allowed us to be somewhat generous in contributing to their capital campaigns.

We are chumps but I'm glad we've at least seen beautiful dinner parties like this. It was quite nice. I sort of glad I came from that other place, though.