Wednesday Notes, October 30, 2024
This is the story of a dining room table
Wednesday Notes, Oct. 30, 2024
This is the story of a family dining room table.
When my parents married my mom brought her family’s dining room table with her. I’m guessing it is solid mahogany. Painted shiny black, it rolls on castors and is expandable with up to five leaves.
My dad was career Navy, so we moved a lot. That table went with us everywhere. It was a constant in my life. The scenery changed, the houses we lived in changed, but dinner was served on the same family dining room table every night.
In the fullness of time, after both parents passed away, I inherited this table and all five leaves. It sits in my small Sarasota dining room, set up right now with no leaves. Today I’m using it as a buffet table to serve breakfast for four.
The menu: portobello pizza mushrooms, mixed green salad, fruit. The portobello pizza mushroom recipe is from my favorite breakfast and brunch cookbook called Sunlight Café: Breakfast served all day by Molly Kazen. She also did the marvelous illustrations. My copy is dog eared and full of bookmarks.
Some garden girls are coming for breakfast. Garden girls are friends who like to garden and are gracious enough to do so from time to time in my garden! We’ll fill plates and eat out on the veranda and maybe plant a few flowers or do some weeding. Oh, and listen to water music, fountains in the ponds. Talk about our lives. Be comfortable with each other and outdoors. A way to overcome hurricane fatigue and restore a bit of tranquility in our lives.
If this dining room table could talk, it would have stories to tell. Growing up, my dad sat at the head of the table. Often the entire family would linger after dinner. He liked conversation with dessert and coffee or liquors. This always surprised me as dad was from Vermont stock. You know what I’m talking about. Few words. Short sentences. Yep.
For after dinner conversation, the floor was open. All subjects welcome. Dad set the agenda –Let’s solve the problems of the world. Even a kid like me could speak up.
Although I’ve forgotten the subject, I still remember the rush of anticipation, with a bit of fear, as I, at the tender age of say, 10 years old, prepared to make an opinion about some world matter after dinner. Knowing me, it probably involved saving redwoods or whales. Hey, I’d done research. I had proof. I launched into my spiel and then held my breath.
My dad nodded. It struck me what a gift it was to have adults listen to me. People at the table ran with the topic. No one laughed at my ideas. That is what I remember most about those conversations, not the content, but that you could tell your story and grown up people listened with respect even if their opinions were different than yours.
Often, I find that respect missing from today’s conversations. And even the idea of having dialogue with one another, live, unfiltered by texting on cell phones or waiting on calls, seems like something from another time, perhaps an exhibit in a museum entitled connectivity before cell towers.
My, how I miss sitting around the dining room table and having those conversations! But I still like telling stories, so here we are. Thank you for listening.
A few years back I heard about an event called Leftover Friday, something they do up New England way. Leftover Friday is the day after Thanksgiving. Everyone brings leftovers. No menu. Who knows what will be served?
And so, one day after Thanksgiving I had Leftover Friday here at my home. I rolled the family dining room table into the living room, used all five leaves, and sat twelve people. It was Thanksgiving all over again only better. We didn’t eat ourselves into oblivion. We sat around the table telling stories, no one in a hurry to leave and go watch a football game. It was marvelous.
Conversation after dinner. Put it on your menu.
Please note: Wednesday Notes is taking a mini break for a small bit of travel and much needed R&R. We will return on Wednesday, Nov. 20.
Text and photos copyright 2024 Lucy Beebe Tobias
Loved this dining room table story. What great memories.
Very few writers could weave a compelling story about a dining room table. You have certainly done so!