All too often in our culture the old is not respected or valued at all. Everyone wants the new, modern, current and latest things. They are not always the best, though! The table is a perfect example.
The Table
Back
in the war years, and the latter half of the nineteen forties, young couples did
not start out expecting a spiffy new house full of new furniture and the latest
gadgets. There were not a lot of gadgets then anyway, but you could not afford
them on starting salaries and credit was not too widely available. Most first
or second homes were furnished with extras and hand-me-downs from parents or
older siblings who might have gotten to the point of acquiring some new or
better stuff.
My
parents were no exception. They furnished the first house I recall with a
motley assortment of odds and ends from Dad’s family home and perhaps some
they’d picked up in the first four years of their marriage. We never did have a couch or sofa and only one
stuffed chair in the living room that normally served other purposes as well.
One
piece I do remember was the table we used for a dining table for several of my early years. It was not large,
maybe about two feet by three or so, wooden legs and a white enameled metal
top. The top would bounce sometimes if you set a heavy dish on it or removed
one but I do not recall anything falling off, at least. Dad had a sturdy wooden
chair on one side and mom had a wooden chair opposite him, but of a different
design. I was stuck in a high chair for longer than I felt appropriate but
finally got a regular seat of my own, actually more of a bench or stool. It had
a low back like it might belong in front of a vanity but it worked. In time
that scene changed,
There
is a Christmas pictures from about 1950, before my first brother was born,
where a fancy machine appears beside the Christmas tree along side my
collection of goodies. It was called a “Shop Smith” and was a combination tool
that could be a saw, lathe, planer and drill. I am not sure if it was Dad’s
Christmas present but I guess it was although I think he had bought it himself.
That elaborate machine was the source of many future projects, stocks for guns,
outdoor effects and furniture.
One
that sticks in my mind was The Table. Yes, I capitalize the name because it was
special and became the center of our eat-in kitchen when it was completed. Dad
built stout--always. I used to joke that you could operate on an injured horse
on that table without a quiver. The trestle style table had 2 x 12 planks for
its top and legs of 2 x 6 boards, more nearly timbers! Dad planed and sanded
them silky-smooth and applied many coats of varnish so it would be water proof.
The bolts that held the top to the legs were countersunk and each hole carefully
filled with a round dowel which was also sanded smooth so the top was flat and
nearly perfect. It was a massive thing of beauty.
By
then my first brother had been born and was about to graduate from that hated
old high chair also. We needed more space around the table with four people to
sit there. The new one was just short of three feet wide and about five feet
long. By this time, we had moved from Jerome down to Clarkdale. The kitchen in
that house was roughly square as were all the four main rooms. In one corner
there was a bit of cupboard and a sink. The
opposite wall held the 220 outlet where the electric range was plugged in. In
the northwest corner by the door to my room, we put the freezer and as I recall,
the fridge sat not far from the stove.
Once
the new table was placed in service, August 4, 1955, the old one was retired,
perhaps used as work space since counter space was limited. There was a pantry
near the back door and all non-perishable food was stored there. It also had a
small counter area that served to prepare things. I made a lot of cookies and
biscuits there in my teen years, but I digress. This is the story of The Table.
Over
the years that table become a love/hate object to me. While it was the site of many
pleasant and happy family dinners, birthday cakes, and good conversations, the
place where any guests gathered to drink coffee and talk, and one of the nicest
pieces of furniture in our house, some bad memories also rapidly accrued.
My
seat, still that low backed bench, was in the right rear corner, since the
table was placed with one end against the south wall and the window onto the
back porch. That put my back almost
against the sink and the one cupboard beside it which made it difficult to get in
and out. I could not just jump up and leave
but had to edge my way clear. Thus I ended up being a captive while I was
subjected to many seemingly endless lectures and tirades as the years went by
and more things went wrong, finances became worrisome and dad’s health, both
physical and mental, declined.
I
cannot count how many hours I sat there, knowing there were necessary chores to
be done to take care of the livestock we had then acquired that would now be
late. Knowing, too, that I would rather be any place in the world rather than
there, a virtual prisoner. For a long time those painful memories all but
obscured the good ones.
It
was a huge relief when I finally left home, going off to college and thence to
a life of my own. I came home some during the first year but the lectures were then
mostly a thing of the past. I had made
my break and established my independence, making my own way with scholarship
and grant funds and no longer obliged to pay for my room and board in whatever
manner was demanded—to include listening, willingly or not.
Finally
the time came when the family left that home. For a time my parents and
brothers were scattered about, before they managed to reunite. I was by then no
longer an actual part of that circle.
Much of the household goods ended up in storage where it stayed for a long
time. For years I helped pay the fees for that so a few precious souvenirs and
mementos would not be lost. Not until my dad passed away did Mom, the boys and I reclaim it all. Among the
nearly-forgotten furnishings was The Table, a bit scarred now from being stowed
in a warehouse and moved from one such location to another at least once, but
still sturdy and whole.
It
took its place in the mobile home where Mom lived until shortly before she
passed away. Then it became the property of my youngest brother who had been at
home until after Dad’s death and still came and went as he pursued his
education. A bit later, it had a place of honor in the dining area in the home
he proudly bought and moved in to after he got established in his legal career,
just a matter of weeks before his untimely death from an aneurysm.
At
that point, most of the old family things that remained came into my possession
since I lived closer to him, both of us in southeastern Arizona ,
while the other brother was in Colorado Hurley , NM , near Silver City Colorado
Finally
in October 2011, brother Charlie and I moved from Colorado
Springs to Alamogordo, NM Colorado
unpacked—that move is a story in itself!-- we made the trip to Silver City
The
painful memories are all but gone. I sit at nearly the same place I always did in
reference to the table itself but I have
a nice wooden chair now myself with my back to our second refrigerator which I
consider more or less “mine.” I can come and go as I wish. Not only am I the
“big sister,” I am also matriarch of the family and no one lectures me. Charlie
sits at the end where Mom used to sit while in the place once occupied by Dad,
there is usually no one unless we have a visitor.
I
do not know where The Table will end up once the two of us are gone since our
step kids have no interest in or memories of it. It was not a part of either of
our homes when they were there. Still, I hope someone will appreciate the
stoutness and craftsmanship of this unique piece of furniture and enjoy it in
years to come. It is already nearly an antique, dating back into the 1950s. May
there be no bad memories made around it in those coming days. I may do an
exorcism someday soon to be sure all traces of bad emotions are gone. That old table deserves the best fate possible.
I thought I had some photos of it but they seem to have been lost when I downloaded all files a few weeks back to recover from a computer crash. I will get some new ones. Anyway here is one peek.
 |
| Little Rojo was new to us in this shot-- but it does show one end of The Table. |
No comments:
Post a Comment