It’s funny how the brain works.  I mean our (my) memories are tucked so far back in our  (my) brain that it sometimes takes a certain smell or voice, or maybe a picture to jog it forward.  Or maybe all it takes is an old aluminum fold up table to awaken some wonderful memories.

As Monk says, “here’s what happened”:

I was out one weekend with my friend Ellen looking for some good stuff.  We stumbled on an estate sale in one our favorite spots in Salem, the Fairmount Hills.  Anyway the house of course was super cool.  Chuck full of everything under the sun.  Mostly things I couldn’t afford.  The house by the way would be a house I would never and I mean never want to stay in – alone!  Way too many rooms, windows, and too many levels.  Ok, I’m getting a little sided tracked. 

Anyway, the prices were a little high for me and we were getting ready to leave when I saw it!  It was hiding under layers of fabric, patterns, and doll heads.  Ooh Yeeks! It was one of the most beautiful tables I have ever seen.  Well kinda…anyway that’s where the memories came flooding in.  It was our family aluminum folding table!  Well it really wasn’t ours, but it looked just like it!!

I got permission to clear the strange items off the top and take a look at it.  It was, I have to admit a little on the beat up side, but I knew I could fix that!  My memories of this table beat out any amount of dirt or dings it had.  I carted the thing home.  My weekend was complete. The table took priority the rest of the evening and into the next day.  As I scrubbed and shined that little table, my wonderful husband, Gary, repaired a section with his amazing handyman talents, all while listening to my stories of my family and “our table” (Well, I think he was listening!??).

Because I grew up with a big family with lots of aunts, uncles, and cousins, we had lots of get together.  Picnics for any occasion.  Memories of turning the crank of the homemade ice cream maker, playing hide and seek in Granny’s big back yard, climbing the big walnut tree out front (It wasn’t that big when we grew up), and spying on our older cousins. The table was at every event.  Always holding casseroles, potato salad, fried chicken, ice tea, and of course the big paddle of homemade ice cream!  I can see it now on Granny and Granddad’s uneven big back yard.   It was used for years and years. 

This table will probably not be for sale, as I said in my last blog I become attached.  Instead of coming with me to family picnics it will come with me to every market I attend, taking on its job of displaying dishes and what nots and what have yous.

 I hope our family table is still up in my mom’s attic.  One of these days, I must get up there. 

My memories are only special to me.  To write about the table is silly, but it’s the memories that are real and special and I treasure them.  So when I’m out looking for the next find, I expect more memories will appear as I respectfully comb through someone else’s possessions. If an old table has that effect on me just think what a blanket or a pretty flowered dish, or a old wooden cane has on the person whose memory was awakened.

Foot note:  I couldn’t find the pictures I was wanted to share, but I did find a couple that you might enjoy…

The famous table covered up with a 70’s table cloth.  A picture of some of my family back in the day, and lastly my Granny’s bedroom window with her geranium’s blooming!  That’s were I get my farm simplicity!

Foot note:  I couldn’t find the pictures I was wanted to share, but I did find a couple that you might enjoy…

The famous table covered up with a 70’s table cloth.  A picture of some of my family back in the day, and lastly my Granny’s bedroom window with her geranium’s blooming!  That’s were I get my farm simplicity!

Growing up, our family spent alternating Sundays (after church) at my grandparents house. Grandma would always make fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy (a meal that I still dream about to this day).  My father and grandfather were avid sports fans and most Sunday afternoons were devoted to sitting in their tiny living room watching TV on their RCA color console TV. 

Looking back, I am impressed with my grandfather’s dedication to anti-commercialism. In the days before remote controls, my grandfather would lift himself out of easy chair at each commercial break and turn down the volume on the TV (all the way down) and when the broadcast came back on, he would lift himself back out of the chair and turn the volume back on. He did this consistently, no matter what show he was watching, with never a bit of hesitation. I wish I had that will or motivation, I sit down at night and barely want to move (even to let the dog out when he noses the bell on the door).

While the two men watched sports, my grandma and mother cleaned and chatted in the kitchen. There wasn’t a lot for my sisters and myself to do, sometimes we would cut out paper dolls from my grandma’s McCalls magazine, other times we would play Yahztee or cards, maybe we would take a trip to the “goodie room”. One of my favorite activities was playing the wooden maze game that they owned.  Long before the days of hand held computer games, or even PacMan, I would sit for hours and try to make the marble go through the labyrinth without falling through a numbered hole.  As anyone that knows me can attest, I am not a person with any athletic ability let alone much eye-hand coordination. So that fact that I persisted at this game is a more a testament to my boredom than my any skill. However, after of few years of trying, I was able to master it reaching all the way to end without letting my marble fall into one of the 50 holes in the board. I surprised my family as much as myself.

All these memories came back when I found this Labyrinth at a yard sale (name changed to space maze- maybe to spark interest in the Star Wars generation).  Well of course I had to have it and was pleased to find that some of my skills were still intact (although I could only make it to 13).