A dining room table isn’t just a piece of furniture; it’s also associated with memories.
The year that Megan was born, Rob and I bought a new dining room table at some cool furniture store in Fort Lauderdale. The table was teak, with beautiful tile inlays. For the next twenty years, that table hosted mostly holiday dinners, some of them large, most of them small. And the rest of the time, we ate at the kitchen table.
Twenty years after we bought the table, it collapsed, almost as though it sensed it hadn’t been loved or used enough to count. For the last four years, that space has sat vacant in our house. Rob has used it for yoga and meditation classes, the cats sometimes wandered around in it, apparently wondering what had happened to the table.
Then a friend told us she had a table she’d bought from her sister that was too large for her kitchen and were we interested? The table was made of dark wood, had six chairs, and she was selling it for $150 and her boyfriend could bring it over to our place.
So one afternoon between thunderstorms, the dining room table was delivered. The dark wood that we weren’t sure we liked at first kind of grew on us. Rob and I ate a couple of dinners at the table. It felt good. But it wasn’t truly initiated until this evening, when Megan had a going away party for her friend, Ross Berlin. They met in high school, went to the same college, and now Ross is moving out of state.
We’ve known Ross since he was 15 years old, a verbal, opinionated kid who could talk to you about mythology and politics as though he were a 40-year-old in disguise. We think of him as Megan’s spiritual brother, the son we didn’t have. When Megan did her internship at Dolphins Plus in Key Largo, she lived with Ross’s mother. When Ross was sick with some terrible virus, he bunked in our back bedroom and we fed him chicken noodle soup and antibiotics. It has been that kind of friendship.
Now Ross is headed to Oakland, California with his girlfriend, Megan, a dancer of Somalian descent, and will be building houses with Habitat for Humanity while Megan is obtaining her master’s degree from Berkeley in dance. The other couple at the dinner were Leandra, who is training to become a yoga instructor, and her boyfriend Steve, a fixture in Wellington polo who writes for the magazine his family owns – Polo Players.
The other guest was Ashley, also a high school buddy of Megan’s and Ross’s, who is now married to an Egyptian Muslim. She just went through her first Ramadan with no liquid or food ingested between dawn and dusk – and got ill after the first day and said, That’s it. I can’t do this. “Me, neither,” her husband said, and that was that for them.
At some point in all this discourse, I realized our new dining room table was being initiated in a way I hadn’t expected but welcomed completely. Our daughter had made salmon burgers for her friends, a going away party for Ross, and now our table suddenly possessed its first memory.
Twenty years from now, Rob and I will be in our eighties, and everyone at this table tonight will be in their forties. Tempus fugit, as my mother used to say. And as time flies, we build our memories, one moment at a time.
Such wonderful memories! My Dad was one of nine children. His Mom, a widow, lived in one of those huge old Victorian-style homes in a South GA town….the kind of house with a wide hall going all the way down the middle from the front door, with the “parlor” on one side, and the bedrooms each opening to the hall on the other side. There was the traditional porch all the way across the front, with its swing, and at the very back of the house, the kitchen ran from one side to the other. It was very, very long. My deceased Granddad, whom I never knew because he died early, had built a table that strectched the length of that long kitchen, with benches os each side of it. Once a month, all nine children, with their families, went to Grandma’s house for the weekend, and all the “Moms” gathered in the kitchen to cook the Sunday meal. There must have been at least twentyfive of us at that table. And Grandma made it a point to prepare at least ONE favorite food of each person, so needless to say there was an enormous feast!! And oh, what fun we had!! All the aunts, uncles, cousins….everyone talking at once, laughing, passing bowls and platters of food from one end to the other until we were all so stuffed we couldn’t move! It was glorious!
Those are memories I’ll never forget. When Grandma died as an elderly lady, the table passed to one of the daughters, who still had it when SHE died. I don’t know where it is now, but the energies it holds are simply wonderful. If only it could talk!!!!!
Great story, math, and the memories sound wonderful!
Okay. That does it. The old oak table in my art studio shall stay right where it is. Once upon a time, when this small, narrow table was fully extended, ten of us would somehow be seated around it for Passover Seders in my aunt and uncle’s little house in Queens. I’ve had that table for fifty years. Yet every summer I vow to give it away. It’s too heavy. The legs are too weak to support all the supplies piled on top of it, etc. Even this morning I was ticked off that I still hadn’t brought it out to the driveway. (And that was 12 hours before reading this post.) Now I understand why! So, thanks.
Hugs!
Nushka! Great to see you….yes, hold onto that table!
Almost 30 years ago,I went into the house clearance/antique business,completely green,not very knowledgeable. I had gone to see some furniture ina house which I didn’t want to buy & asked the farmer was there anything else to which he replied there was some old stuff in the barns. I saw there in the dark,upside down with hay bales all around and chickens roosting on it what appeared to be a long farmhouse table painted white,it was difficult to examine,but a wonderful size,I decided to take a chance on it,uncertain of its condition,wether it had woodworm,or if the paint would strip off,so I offered £10, which was readily accepted because he said it would have ended up on the bonfire anyway.There was a smaller side table in the house that matched it & I also bought that. I put the big table on my roof rack.
When I returned to my place of business there were a couple of dealers there & one offered my £200 for the table on my roof rack,I declined,explaining I had been searching for a big dining table for my family,there were 6 of us & this table cd seat 8 to 10’people comfortably.
It stripped and polished beautifully,it was the heart and focus of family gatherings and dinner parties for over20 years,but when I downsized to a smaller house I sold it for £600.I still miss it & now I am in a house where it wd be perfect !
Hindsight! Maybe you can buy it back!
I remember my parents’ big table that was where we gathered for years. It had so many memories, but after they died, I have no idea what happened to it. Now it only exists in my memory. I loved this story, Trish, and felt like I was sitting there with you. 🙂
You were sitting there, Jan!
What a wonderful, heartwarming story. If we all would do this, and often, think of the healing that could happen in the heart of America.
Can you imagine? The dining room chronicles…or something,.
Great to see you, Debra.
I love it Trish!! <3 What a charming- feel good, wonderfully said moment! A feeling that becomes a memory, lasting inside of us always. Thank you this warmed my heart! <3 Love to you, Rob, and Megan and Ross and all!! hehe 😉
Sommer! U r in Ecuador u lucky girl! We wish u could have been with us!
I love this story. I am having the exact same experience with our table that we moved to Portland. It was in my husband’s family for many years at their cabin in Glacier Park. It then was used as a dinner table by his parents, and then by us for many years. (The massive dining room table – seldom used – has moved on to my brother’s larger home.) But now the table is a bit big for the the room. We’ve downsized to a small townhouse in the middle of the city. Do we buy another table, sans all the memories and energy this table holds, or do we just make it work? Maybe just get smaller chairs and call it day?
Tables hold family memories, and bits and pieces of the people that surround them. I’m guessing this old table in our new city place will stay – it has way too much character to just be tossed aside. Besides, that’s why we moved to this place – to have family and friends around our table for meals, laughter, and good conversation. A new table just wouldn’t feel the same, I’m afraid.
Keep the old table! We didn’t really have a choice about our old table – it collapsed. But we love the new one and the idea of building memories.
I agree. Mirrors are the same way. I came across a mirror that had been handed down to us from Rich’s parents – I never asked much about it – just always used it with a certain table below it in entryways, etc. over the years. I was about to pass it on and decided to try it in our bedroom over another piece of furniture of the same wood. My husband came in and said the mirror had always been in his parents home for as long as he could remember. It must be over 60 years old! Reflecting all the lives of those that stood before it. Most of the people are gone now…
It sounds like the mirror in Raymond Moody’s Theater of the Mind!
wonderful story…of many wonderful stories to come…round that dining table –
a little funny story of my own…i’d been on the computer some today but had gotten distracted and had not made it back over here since early morn before this post was up – anyway – the last thing i did before coming to the computer just now was to prepare dinner – dinner? salmon croquettes…
Salmon synchro! Good one, Gypsy!
I love our kitchen table.It’s a square 8 seater table we bought so it could seat the extended families when they come over for dinners on occasion.
I like it because there is no “head of the table” positions on it,everyone is of equal status.One reason that I hated the old rectangular table we had before this one.
I often adjourn to this table to read a book or newspaper,when I have the house to myself,as it is like a touchstone or energy place to me for some reason.
Funny you mention the words “salmon” and “Ashley”,as I have just started reading Douglas Adams last book “The Salmon of Doubt” ,and my last post on my blog was about Ashley Bell,the actress daughter of Michael Bell,the actor.
Love the idea of everyone being equal at the table! Haven’t read that adams book.
Kitchen tables hold so many stories.
Ours was once an old barn door, I love it. We purchased it 26 years ago and have raised 2 children, 2 dogs and 4 cats on it, in it ( it has a shelf underneath) and beside it.
Sometimes we have sat around it and just laughed at all of the memories, such as our old cat Laurence who was a huge tabby, whenever my husband travelled when my daughters were young, he would sit in my husbands chair at dinner time. When my husband returned he did not like giving up that seat!
Memories!
I can see the cat doing that! Memories….
I wish your table lots of wonderful memories – looking back in 20 years time will keep you forever young(ish!).
I wrote a post a while back about our old dining table and said how it reminded me of times when …
Over the years we have laughed ourselves silly sitting round that table playing games, talking, eating celebratory meals and so on. I can remember teaching my son to read and singing songs to him like Old Shep while we sat there. My mum and dad, Karin’s mother and various friends and family have all joined us for meals, tea and laughter.
I can remember on occasions laughing so much I had to leave the room with tears running down my cheeks, but there have also been tears of great sadness as we lost various relatives, friends and animals.
Memories are stored in all sorts of objects.
You’re so right, Mike. I remember that post of yours and loved it!
I was reading this post thinking haven’t you guys written a post about your dining table before ?
But it was Mike’s post I was getting confused about.
Glad you wrote that comment above Mike,because I thought I was having a vague déjà vu moment for a while there.
Funny!
Trish,
Rob,
Those who share,
There are pictures of the whole family together, all 12 of us, the table long, dirty with elbows and spills. Thanksgivng could have been up to 24+ with older sibs friends, parents friends. It was always us three little ones at the fold out card table. Then the viet nam war, and the horror of dad’s WW2 experiences came out. The table became a battle zone…
Life is an amazing tapestry, hills and valleys, weaves and loose threads. A joy to share, getting to a point where no more hurts came be done.
Be well
Laurence
Beautifully said, Laurence. When hurts like that have occurred, then perhaps the people who were hurt strive not to repeat or perpetuate the pattern. That’s my hope.
Robert Anton Wilson said some thing like this, concerning his daughter if I. Remember correctly. We have to break the whell of karma…
Do you recall where he mentioned this?
Let do a little research, it was in a book of his…
Here you go, this a link but not the book I read.
The term is stop the wheel of karma, sorry, i read this back in the early 80s .
https://beforeitsnews.com/awesome-time-wasters/2013/04/robert-anton-wilson-a-lesson-in-karma-2448250.html
Thanks, Laurence! Will check it out. The idea sounds familiar….