I was reading an article today in one of my old magazines. I stopped getting all but one of my subscriptions until I can get caught up on reading some of them, thus the term old. It was about how we hang onto things that were our grandparents simply because they have a memory for us. For the author, it was her kitchen table. She was remodeling and the designer instructed her that the kitchen table had to go, and why not put in a snack bar instead. Her response was no. The kitchen table stays. It was her grandmothers and she had fond memories of her entire family sitting around the table eating, playing cards and games. It didn’t matter to her that she only had 3 of the chairs left that matched the table, or the fact it was faded and stained.
After I finished the article I kind of went, huh. I have a table my grandparents had when I was younger. No matching chairs, just a table. Even though this table was replaced as I got older with a nicer wooden one, I still prefer the older table. It holds more memories for me. My grandparents gave the table to me many years ago. For a few years I used it in my beauty shop. I used it for many things; eating, folding clothes, and sitting around with friends on occasion.
The table was put into storage after I moved because I only had room for one table in the tiny apartment we lived in. Once we moved into our house we were able to get it out of storage and start using it again. It has become my main table in the kitchen. My nicer table sits in our dining room and is used very seldom, except to collect dust and papers we don’t know where to put.
We prefer to eat in the kitchen where we are more comfortable. The table is host to many crafting projects, including painting and cutting. Luckily the top is very sturdy and is able to withstand all that is has endured. If we get paint on it, we use nail polish remover to take it off. We don’t have to worry too much about hurting it.
I can remember many times growing up all of us sitting around this table sharing a meal my grandmother had prepared. It was generally fried chicken or beef and noodles. Those were the two meals we all seemed to favor. Invariably at each dinner, a glass of milk was spilled, and it would always run toward my grandfather. By this time he was using a chair with wheels so he could maneuver quickly to escape the rushing stream of milk headed his way. The majority of the time he was quick enough to get out of the way. I think I can only recall one time the milk hit his pant leg as he narrowly escaped. I read people used table cloths in the past to help soak up spills at the table during a meal. This would have saved a lot of floor cleaning over the years had I known this. But then again, which is worse, wiping up the floor or doing more laundry? Gotta clean the floors sometime!