This afternoon I covered our dining room table with the white tablecloth that my grandmother embroidered more than 100 years ago. It’s my favorite tablecloth and I only use it for special occasions, like Easter, Thanksgiving, or Hanukah that we celebrate with friends tonight. Every time I spread it out on the table, I admire her work; the intricate floral design in shades of blue, green, yellow and pink, the blue border and the colorful geometric lines in each corner. I love it because it’s beautiful, but most of all I love it because I know my grandmother created it and used it on her table. I smooth out the crease lines, level the drop on either side of the table, and sit close to her even though she’s been gone for over 60 years.
I keep all my tablecloths in a pine and cedar chest that doubles as a coffee table in the living room. When you open it, the sensual smell of cedar envelops you in a cloud of perfume. I always look forward to opening the hinged lid and inhaling the first few vapors that have been locked inside since I last lifted the lid. The chest belonged to my husband’s family and was delivered by moving truck along with other second-hand antiques to our home in California over forty years ago. His family hoped that these beautiful pieces would be treasured by the next generation just as they had been. My husband lovingly restored the trunk and it found a permanent home in our living room.
We could not find a place for all the pieces that were delivered that day, but a pine front has presided over the dining room of all the houses in which we have lived. Easily removed from the bottom half for moving, the top half has a glass door with shelves for displaying many of our other treasures. If you look closely at the pointed top, you can tell that some of the wood has been repaired, the victim of a pet cockatoo that loved to peck at the surface every time we forgot to look at it.
The dining table in front of the rest front is solid heavy oak with two extension pieces that can be inserted in the middle of the table when it is opened with a special handle. I found it in an antique store somewhere on Ocean Drive in Southern California. During the years when our children were growing up, it was our family table, always large enough to accommodate any additional children or adults staying for dinner. It has been repaired twice and still looks like new. When I sit down at the table, I like to think of the families that could have sat down before us; I wonder who they were, what they talked about, and why they couldn’t keep the table. I wish the table could talk.
After a long search, we finally purchased a table for our lanai. We spend a lot of time in this little room, where we eat breakfast, lunch and (most of the time) dinner. The room is long and narrow, so we needed a rectangular or oval table that was long enough to accommodate our children when they were visiting. I’ve visited outdoor furniture stores, Florida furniture stores, and vintage furniture stores with no luck. Then my husband and I walked into the large antique and collectible store across from the Burns Court Theater in Sarasota and there, in a back corner almost covered by other items, was this long oval wrought iron table with a glass top thick and six chairs. (which needed reupholstering). The base had a vine design and an unusual leg structure that was very stable but the top moved smoothly when pushed. The store owner told us that it had been specially designed for the balcony of a condominium in New York City. I imagined the owner of the condo sitting at the table, a cup of tea in front of her (I was sure the owner was a woman), looking at least 20 floors down at the people walking on the street below her. She then moved to Florida and the table eventually ended up at this consignment store. The table was perfect in every way: it was the right size, it came with chairs, and it had a story. It would find a cozy home among our other antiques.
Of course, there is still more. We have a small serving table, with large wheels and two drop leaves, purchased from a small store in upstate New York. The owner told me that a man had made the table out of a tree that had fallen in his yard and given it to his daughter. I wondered what had happened to her daughter and why she would give up such a wonderful gift. The car is a bit clunky and some of the pieces don’t fit quite right, but the story convinced me.
A large oak coat rack with hooks for your coats, a recess for an umbrella, and a seat to kick off your shoes dominates our door, another possession acquired from an antique store during our years in California. It is the stature of furniture created in the Northeast and I imagine someone bought it there and then moved to California. I have filled the umbrella well with poles which (sadly) I have needed several times.
We have many possessions that remind us of the three years we lived in Japan: a wicker coffee table and two end tables, two plates inlaid with semi-precious stones found in an antique shop in Hiroshima, two folding screens, various paintings. Our possessions are full of memories, both from our family and from the ghosts of previous owners. One day our things will carry on too, some for our children, maybe for our granddaughter, but most will be acquired by new families and become part of their life stories. And that’s the way it should be. Perhaps I’ll attach this essay to each piece I’ve mentioned so the new owners have a bit of history to go along with their new possession.
