He was sent to first grade with a cloth napkin in his lunch box. It was made of the finest damask weave. It was missing when he arrived home. Several days later and after many inquiries, it showed up among the class’ painting rags; torn, ripped and with a permanent paint stain, red, in a streak from the edge.
‘I thought it was a painting rag that was sent along from home’, said she who apparently never had been acquainted with quality linens, or had the sense to ask the little boy why his mother had sent along a painting rag, and such a thick one and with a pattern in the weave, in the lunch box.
But four months later we saw the back of her, never to return, so probably she had other issues besides not recognizing a quality weaved cloth when faced with it.
And the dozen that was broken, is still ok – so seldom nowadays we find a dozen around our table. But still a pity, as the home from which the damask napkin came just so happened to have an abundance of rags that could have come to good use.