He was sent to 1st grade with a napkin in his lunch box. It was of the finest damask. It was missing when he came home. Several days later, and after many inquiries, it showed up among the classroom’s painting rags; torn, worn and with permanent paint stains, red, in a fold close to the edge.
’I thought it was a paint rag sent along from home’, said she who apparently never had been acquainted with finer linens, or had the common sense to ask the little boy why his mother had sent a painting rag in the lunch box, and such a thick one and with a pattern in the weave to boot.
But four months later we saw the back of her, never to return, so she probably had other issues besides not recognizing a quality weave when faced with it.
And the dozen that got broken, has managed just fine – not often there are a full dozen around the table these days. But still a pity, since there were such an abundance of rags in the home from whence it came.
