If the Riverwalk is Naperville’s crown jewel, so our Masonic lodge is its hidden gem. Chartered in 1849, today Euclid Lodge No. 65 can be found tucked away up a flight of stairs above Naperville Running Company on Jefferson Avenue.
The role of organization’s Worshipful Master has been held by many local dignitaries since then. Town founder Joe Naper held the title in 1852. He was followed by other notables, such as Lewis Ellsworth, Naperville’s village president, in 1853; James Wright, Naperville Township supervisor, in 1862 and, as of last week, my husband, a system support engineer.
“So, what should I call you now? Your Highness?” I joked. “Do I need to walk out of the room backwards in your presence? Kneel at your feet?”
As you can see, I’m not the most deferential of wives. To be honest, I’m not a huge fan of any single-gender organizations, especially if the only time you tend to see women in the building is either as visitors or working away in the kitchen.
The annual installation is traditionally followed by a celebration. Since it took place on a Sunday afternoon, it seemed the obvious way for us Brits to celebrate was with high tea.
As much as I may not seek out the role of a 1950s housewife, I admit we do throw a good party. All we needed for high tea were a few fancy three-tier cake stands, some finger sandwiches, scones with whipped cream and jam, tiny pastries and tea. It all sounded so simple … at first.
“How many people are we looking at?” I said, trying to work out if the half bag of flour in my larder would be enough.
“About 50, I should think,” Grumpy replied. “But this high tea thing is proving quite popular so maybe you’d better cater for 60 to be safe.”
I’m never quite sure why you Americans love the British so much. Apparently, you could listen to us talk all day, offer far more respect to the Royal family than we do and go crazy for high tea. Not that I’m not grateful, but if I thought my fellow countrymen were so fabulous I’d still be living there.
Anyhow, what I should explain here is that as hospitable as Grumpy is, he is also very frugal. So, along with whipping up a quick tea for 60 came hours price comparing at Costco and Gordon Food Services and endless discussions about paper vs. china.
But it was the cake tiers that sent us over the edge.
When you need 15, buying them at Pottery Barn or Williams Sonoma is not an option. Obviously, we could have just put the food on serving dishes like normal people, but it didn’t really say “high tea.” (Historical note: high tea is called such because it is eaten at a table, not because it is piled up on cake stands.)
Grumpy’s frugality is only matched by his lack of prowess at DIY.
“I know, I’ll make the stands myself,” he said. “I can drill holes in these old plates.”
I felt the color drain out of my cheeks and land on a huge puddle on the floor.
“But how are you going to fit them together? What will stop the plates from cracking?” We’ve been down this road before, believe me.
“Look, I’ll just try one and if it works, I mean when it works, I’ll order the connecting posts on line,” he replied with the confidence only a man who buys tools because he likes the color could have.
Wouldn’t you know it, the first hole worked great? So the day before the installation, I found myself in the kitchen watching Grumpy attack a pile of plates before screwing them together in sets of three.
“It seems to be taking rather a long time,” I called out. “Hang on, what’s that smell?”
“It’s my drill. It’s losing its charge and the board under the plate is burning.” He replied. “The battery takes 12 hours to charge and we don’t have time. I’m going to have to buy one with a cord.”
An hour later (see previous comments about price comparisons), we were up and running. Even with my terrible math I was able (slowly) to work out that 15 x 3 was 63. Finally, they were all assembled and placed on a table ready for tomorrow’s affair.
“Something’s not quite right. I can’t quite put my finger on it,” said Grumpy, standing back to admire his handy work.
Have you ever seen those amazing jugglers who can spin multiple plates on huge flexible poles? No further comment needed.
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“Maybe they’ll balance out when the food’s on them,” he said.
“Or the sandwiches will fly off into our guests’ laps,” I replied sulkily. If I were Greek, I’d have taken the lot and smashed them on the floor.
Who likes to watch those competitions on the Food Network? Sunday morning’s food prep began well. Having already made 120 scones, it was easy enough to take them out of my freezer, bring them to the lodge and climb the 34 stairs to get them inside. The 240 slices of bread buttered easily. I completed my first 30 cucumber sandwiches and held up my hands like on “Chopped.”
“Done,” I laughed.
We weren’t laughing an hour later. Things quickly turned from an episode of “Chopped” to Robert Irvine’s “Dinner Impossible.” That’s the one where he has to literally feed an army of people in just a few hours with volunteers. We were doing it in two hours with no volunteers.
Amazingly, we were able to pull it off, the tea tables looked great, the installation went off without a hitch once Grumpy had turned the car around so he could pick up his bow tie, and a good time was had by all.
Once it was over I saw something I don’t think I have ever seen before. Turns out men do sometimes work in the kitchen. While I finally got the chance for a nice cup of tea, Grumpy’s, sorry Worshipful Master Grumpy’s brothers cleared the tables, did the washing up and stacked all the plates. They couldn’t have been more gracious in helping out their new leader because its just part of what freemasons do.
I’m not sure if Grumpy will go down in the annuls of history as one of Euclid Lodge’s greatest Worshipful Masters, but I hope so. They do charitable work, help raise each other up and are a rich part of Naperville’s history after all. As for me, I really can’t stand the heat so for now I’ll stay out of their kitchen.
Hilary Decent is a freelance writer who moved to Naperville from England a decade ago.