Years ago, when I was a senior in high school (and you know that was a long time ago), I was feeling bored, so I walked around the block to visit with a friend.
She was sitting on the couch sulking. I would have thought she was in a blue mood because she broke up with her boyfriend, but she had no boyfriend at the time. Instead, she was mourning the loss of her family’s refrigerator. It had been malfunctioning and had to be replaced. I arrived as it was being wheeled out of the door.
My friend was being no fun at all. In fact, she was on the verge of tears. All she could talk about was how long the family had had it and how accustomed she had become to it. I couldn’t understand how someone could mourn an inanimate object. After giving her a few words of condolence, I went home.
Today, I can commiserate with her.
I donated my round, oak claw foot dining room table to a local charity. It came with the house my first husband and I bought in 1972. The house cost $7,500 (yes, you read that right). If we wanted the furniture that was in it, the price was $8,000. We decided to spend the extra $500, as we needed some of that furniture.
We sold what we didn’t need, as the items were old and local antique dealers were glad to get them. They offered a nice price for our dining room table, but we turned them down every time. First of all, we needed a table to eat on; second of all, we would have to use the proceeds of the sale to buy another table; and last of all, we liked it.
Our family spent many an hour around that table in the dining room. We ate three meals a day while sitting at that table, while sharing news about our day. My first husband and three children sat around the table peeling tomatoes or peaches, assembly line, so I could pack them in jars and can them.
The children and I spent many evenings playing cards or board games on that table. And, when holidays came, I opened it up, put all of the six leaves in and invited extended family to join us for a meal.
Since Sweetheart and I got married, the table was disassembled and has been gathering dust in the barn. No one in my family wants it. They say they have no place to put it. I thought someone should get some use out of it—someone who really needs a table.
As we brought it out of the barn, it looked sad. It was just pieces of wood put together. Antique dealers don’t even want it any more.
Later, after it was gone, all of the bittersweet memories came flooding back to me. I could empathize with my friend and her refrigerator. It wasn’t the refrigerator she had been mourning. It was the delicious food she and her family had shared and the good times preparing it.
Maybe, the person who gets my table will appreciate its beauty and begin to make memories with their own family. Or, (who knows) maybe, an antique dealer will come along and give them a lot of money for it.
Dorothy is the author of two books—“Miles and Miracles” and “Getting It All Together “. You can purchase a book or send a comment by emailing her at dorothybutzknight@gmail.com
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