Hospitality, so far as I know, is still a cardinal virtue among the Celtic people.

Thursday, February 07, 2002

Hospitality, so far as I know, is still a cardinal virtue among the Celtic people. The novelist Thackeray once said that he had never known an Irishman so poor that he didn’t have a poorer Irishman living with him.

My Grandmother Cruikshank, with six children of her own, not to mention numerous house guests who came for a weekend and ended up living there, laid down an iron clad rule for the children. &uot;If you have friends who come to visit and are still here at mealtime, you don’t have to consult me, ask them to stay and eat. We can always put a little more water in the soup.&uot;

When I was 11 years old and visiting one of my mother’s older sisters in a nearby town, she called me to supper while a little neighbor girl was visiting me. Not being in my own home I was at a loss as to my next move, so said goodbye to my friend who went home.

My aunt, ordinarily an easy going woman, was not pleased with me. &uot;Where’s Pauline?&uot; she asked. When told that Pauline had gone home, she ordered me to go at once and fetch her.

&uot;I can’t imagine you not knowing better than letting her go without asking if she had a mouth in her head. I know your parents would die of shame,&uot; my aunt said.

Well, Pauline was only a couple of houses away. I don’t think she particularly wanted to come back with me, but I didn’t dare return without her. So she took pity on me and having been admonished by her grandmother, whom she was visiting, to mind her manners came with me.

My mother was in the grocery store when one of the other customers came up to her, called her by name, and asked if she could bring some friends to our house that evening. She was giving a Stanley party and was afraid that her house was not big enough for the expected guests.

My mother was perfectly willing, but she did tell me and the house guests of the era that she wished she knew the woman’s name. &uot;I don’t know what to call her.&uot;

Many of the guests the woman expected didn’t show up. So my mother cornered me and told me under her breath to go in the other room and telephone any of my friends I could think of to come.

&uot;And tell them to be prepared to buy,&uot; she told me, &uot;That poor woman shouldn’t have all this trouble for nothing.&uot;

As I recall we had whomped together the refreshments, so I’m not sure just what trouble our visitor was put to, but she was happy in making a fair number of sales. We never did find out her name.

I worked with a wonderfully witty woman at The Tribune, who had much the same background as I did. We were fond of our friends who had different ethnic backgrounds, but we were sometimes puzzled by them.

Irish tradition has it that no matter how messy your house, you don’t apologize for it if a guest happens by. Else the guest may think she’s called at the wrong time.

&uot;And I have neighbors,&uot; said my Tribune friend, &uot;Who apologize for the looks of their house when it’s shiny clean and you could eat off the floor.&uot;

Not long after that she and her husband moved to another state. When they returned to Albert Lea for a visit I was on vacation. It was a hot day and I was doing the family ironing. My mother liked even the sheets ironed. So wearing shorts I was doing the ironing in the living room where I could play the phonograph while I worked.

The room had clothes holders around it with the ironed sheets draped across them. My hair was up in curlers with a bandana tied over them.

I hadn’t expected to see my friends, but I was glad to see them. I switched off the iron and the phonograph, led them around the sheets to the sofa and managed to get iced-tea and store cookies for them. We had a wonderful visit.

When I walked them to their car as they were leaving, my friend from The Tribune leaned over and whispered to me, &uot;You did that real well.&uot;

An accolade I still treasure.

Love Cruikshank is an Albert Lea resident. Her column appears Thursdays.