As requested, a short story entitled “My Meal for Martha,” by Margaret in Minnesota, who was then from North Dakota.
And didn’t Martha know it.
Because she and my employer teased me about it throughout the whole meal.
But I’m getting ahead of my story. First the missing link to how I came to be there in the first place, because I know that we bloggers all love links. It’s fairly simple. I was working in the news bureau at the National Music Camp in Interlochen, Michigan. Jill Krementz arrived to take the pictures for her story, A Very Young Musician. My boss asked me to be her assistant.
In show business, that would be called my “big break.”
When Jill mentioned she needed a nanny in the Fall, I said I was available. I was a photography major with an English minor who was being given the chance to work for a well-known photographer and her even-more-well-known-almost-to-the-point-of-infamy husband, Kurt Vonnegut.
Certainly I was available!
And that’s how I came to be a nanny in New York. (Nanny and personal chef, I might add. What a deal!)
To be a North Dakotan in New York City is something of a novelty. The locals (who in all likelihood are transplants themselves) expect you to be wet behind the ears which, I beg your pardon, I was not. Well, maybe I was a little. I was extroverted, though, and I liked to talk, and in New York City that is almost enough to get by on.
In any case, perhaps I was “small town” because I hadn’t yet heard of Martha Stewart when I was told that she’d be our guest for supper. The year was 1989 and I was 22 years old. It’s okay for you to do the math because you already know that I’m 40! Anyway, Martha was not yet the self-made empire she is today.
So when Jill said, “Haven’t you started supper yet? Martha Stewart is coming over!!” I simply replied,
“Who?”
My employer led me to one of their many bookshelves, whereupon an entire row was lined with books by this Martha Stewart.
I remained carefully neutral.
I had to, as a defense mechanism, because my life as their nanny was spent in the midst of the rich and famous, and for me to stand there with my mouth gaping—-like when I was introduced to Wynton Marsalis—-would give my naivete away.
I hoped I didn’t smell like hayseed. I took in all the books that were written by our due-to-arrive-at-any-time guest—books like Martha Stewart Entertains and Martha Stewart Makes Perfect Pies & Tarts—I shrugged, and I went to make the meal.
Pasta with clam sauce and a whole wheat baguette.
Probably a salad, too.
And in the end they ate my meal, in its entirety, because my father (who is down home like me) is also 100 percent French Canadian (like me) and had taught me everything I knew. And my father is an excellent cook! ; )
Since the meal was not an issue, my employer and her guest turned to other topics for their conversation. That is to say, they spoke about me and in front of me, their chef, who, as you know, is from North Dakota originally.
In short, they were a wee bit catty.
Well, God bless them. Is it their fault that they weren’t familiar with the beauty of the prairie I called home? Or was it the small town mentality to which they were certain I prescribed? Eh bien! It didn’t matter. I had something to scribble about furiously later that day in my dearest friend, my journal.
And write I did.
And write I continue to do.
Ed. Note: I like Martha Stewart, by the way. She may have certain temperamental vices, but who among us doesn’t? We are all such little children inside, with a heart of flesh and a will that wavers and above all, a need to be loved.
And in Martha’s case, I truly admire the innumerable ways in which she blesses women’s lives with her talent. Anyone who brings more beauty to this fallen world is on my A-list.
Margaret, this post is something else. Thanks so much for telling this extremely interesting (and funny) story!
I’m so glad we got to hear the story! I don’t think I would have been so calm in that situation.
Thank you Margaret for the great story!!! You can just see the grace of God has worked in your life, your life could have been so different if you had gone in the ways of the world. Are you still in contact with the people you used to nanny for? You are such a talented and interesting person, it’s so fun getting to know you through this wonderful holy site. You inspire me to be a better mother each day, thank you and God Bless you!
This is a fabulous story! Wow! I love how you were nonplussed by the whole situation.
Dh doesn’t like Martha Stewart because she’s liberal. I like her with some reservations. I love her ideas, and I think she sees beauty everywhere, particularly doing things with your own hands, and making homemaking an art.
BUT…she misses some key ingredients, obvious to me. One is valuing the person you are serving, HOSPITALITY. It’s not self-fulfillment, but self-gving and act of charity. Another is finding the true purpose for all the work — sanctifying our daily work.
She was raised Catholic, so I pray daily for her conversion so she can fit in those missing pieces and be a true inspiration to mothers and homemakers.
I’m glad you ladies like the story!
Jamie, your comments literally made my day. To be honest, I was feeling pretty shy about posting this story—it seems a little self-indulgent! But if it can give glory to the work of God in my life then it is worth it.
No, I am not in touch with my former employer. I’m afraid I left on a bad note (and that’s another heck of a story) because she wasn’t willing to give me the time off that I needed to make the retreat up in Connecticut. That 5-day retreat changed my life—a 180 degree change in attitude and morals—so I am truly grateful to Jill for the opportunity to come out East.
Good story…cooking for Martha Stewart. The stress!
Great story! Thanks for sharing it with us. And as a native and almost life-long New Yorker I can tell you that NO ONE can be more provincial than a New Yorker 🙂
Oh, Margaret, what a writer you are. So funny and so real. I think I want to move to MN and be your best friend, which will make my dh, the South Dakotan, very happy (anywhere but Ohio, he begs). And then you can make me laugh and help me keep my priorites in order and maybe even teach me how to cook. Ah, a girl can dream, can’t she? Keep writing!
I was about to shut down the computer for the night and retire to bed — exhausted — when I clicked through to your blog from Bloglines and saw that the log-awaited Martha post had finally arrived! Yes! No — I’m so tired! Yes, I must read it!!! And it was worth it. Sounds like a really fun (and grace-filled) time of your life! It’s fun to know someone who cooked for Martha Stewart and did it with such finesse and such success! “You go, Girl!” — or is it “You went, Girl!” ??? ;o) Thanks for sharing!!!
It *is* a wonderful story. I’m so glad you shared it. Not self-indulgent at all … but a rattlin’ good tale.
I loved Vonnegut when I was in college — would have died to be in your place, though I couldn’t have cooked such a meal to save my life.
Clearly, we’ve both seen a lot of changes since those days …. 😉
I was impressed when Martha on her first Apprentice show gave the winning team a service reward (can’t quite remember exactly what it was, just the giving back/unselfish tone of it rather than let’s go out to a great restaurant or golf event to celebrate that we won attitude), and I think Mr. Trump followed suit on his shows.
Margaret, this story is *awesome*!! I have been wanting to get here for the last few days to read it, and read it I just did, sipping my coffee and shooing my children away.
Because you see, I am a Martha fan and I was dying to hear the story. But I have become a Margaret fan now too, and even more so. Your writing is fabulous. Thanks for the big smile this morning! 🙂
I enjoyed your story about Martha so much! I too was a small town North Dakota girl who went to New York and Connecticut to be a nanny when I was in college and wasn’t sure what I wanted to “be when I grow up”…. 20 years later I am married to my sweetheart, a life-long Westchester County boy, and we have moved back to North Dakota to raise our family of four children. I had to laugh when you talked about not letting your mouth gape open. I met Paul Newman and Joann Woodward one day when I was at a friends fiance’s house in Westport, CT and tried so hard to act like it was just another day for me!! Thanks again for the neat story… I have added your blog to my daily read list and look forward to it.