39. Becks In the Shadows
SATURDAY, AUGUST 28, 1976
Tip: The rules are always changing, Virginia. A hostess in my mother’s day is not what a hostess is in mine, and certainly is not what it will be in yours. But it has been my experience that returning to those small touchstones—elegant table settings, appropriate serving, thoughtful invitations—those constants create parties that seem extravagant in their undertaking when, really, they are only proper. It is in following the rules that are traditional, classic, unchanging, that something simple seems extraordinary. When in doubt, get back to basics. Some things truly are timeless. They will never lead you astray.
Dear Virginia,
I am so happy to see you happy in your relationship, your job, your life. And I hope you know that I would never want to change you; I am so proud of the woman you are becoming. I know my dinner parties may sometimes seem silly to you. And maybe they are silly. But, you see, over the course of the past three decades or so your father and I have welcomed people into our home and fed them, given them the best of ourselves, turned strangers into friends, a cold new place into a warm and welcoming one. People have fallen in love at our dinner parties, met their spouses, made best friends, gotten new jobs, found a place in this corner of the world we love so much. (I know your life is so very different from mine, but, if, one day, when I am not here, you decide to pick up the mantle, I hope you know that my notebook—a.k.a. my Guide to Entertaining—has everything you need in it!)
No, it isn’t curing cancer or marching on Washington, but I’d like to think that, in a small way, I have made a mark on people’s lives. But none of that is what really matters. None of that is why I picked up this pen.
What I really wanted to say was that, one day, I will be gone, and when I am, I never want you to look back and say, “Poor Mom and her little life.” My little life has made me so terribly happy. It has been more than I deserved. Being a hostess, a southern woman, a church altar guild member, a Historic Site volunteer, a teacher, the support system for a very busy doctor, the mother to two extraordinary children, and the person who made the best damn key lime pie in all of Carteret County? Those things meant something to me. They were everything. They were enough. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I would, as I always have, do anything to protect you and Lon, to soothe your pain, to make you smile. I didn’t get that with my own mother and, of all the things I have done, what makes me proudest is my relationship with the two of you.
You, my girl, I am sure, will make a mark. A big one. People will read about you in history books and be in awe of how you changed the world. But don’t forget, I am the one who brought you into it. Some people cast a bright light while others stand in the shadows. If I had to stand in the shadows so that you could shine, well, so be it. Keep shining, my girl. Keep shining.
All my love,
Mom