The Royal Table
As the kid trudged up the dirt driveway toward the old home place, he was shaking like a cat trying to pass a persimmon seed. His Dad knew that today was report card day and his grades would determine if Junior got his car or that he would have to wait another six weeks.
“Sit down Son. Let’s see the card.” His Daddy could tell by the body language that his American History grade was putting his car on hold for another six weeks. The news was delivered at the central spoke of the home: the kitchen table.
Many of our earliest childhood memories started at the kitchen table.
We can’t remember the location of our keys or when to take our blood pressure medicine. We play an adult version of “Where’s Waldo?” in the Wal-Mart parking lot looking for our car. We forget birthdays, anniversaries, colonoscopies and dental appointments. BUT…Ask any Baby Boomer to describe their childhood kitchen table and they can tell you the color, shape, description and the number of chairs.
Don’t dare confuse the kitchen table with the more formal dining room table. The dining room table was reserved for company, such as when the cousins visited from California. Or the preacher came for Sunday dinner and ate the best parts of the chicken. You learned to keep your mouth shut and eat your chicken necks while he scoffed down another tasty looking chicken leg.
Memories came from the Royal Table: the kitchen table.
During the sixties, many of the tables were made of Formica which would withstand a nuclear attack. The forest green pattern was very common. Most had 6 chairs, covered in plastic that would stick to the back of your legs during the dog days of summer. Parents had a strict rule against leaning back on the back legs to prevent marks in the linoleum.
Some families had the faux wood tables and chairs which were covered in a plastic like substance. The lodged food in the table cracks could fertilize a garden. The mandatory matching placemats added to the décor. Even some had a “Lazy Susan” in the middle for the salt, pepper, sugar, napkins, Tabasco, pepper sauce, chow-chow and toothpicks.
When we were really young, we remember that our Grandparent’s kitchen table was about 16 feet long and had 10 chairs. Of course, we later realized that it was only 6 feet long and had 6 straightback chairs with a cane bottom. The “head chair” had the highest back and was the only one that had arms on it.
Theirs was made of solid oak, cherry or maybe pine that had been stained. During the depression, many had an oil cloth covering it. Others had a red checkered tablecloth that Granny sewed with her pedal operated sewing machine.
Why all this hoopla about a simple table?
Because EVERY decision, discussion or delivery of news, came from the seats around the kitchen table.
As a college football recruiter, I knew that I had a much better chance of signing a young athlete IF I could get the recruit and his family to the kitchen table. If supper was offered and the grandmother happened to be there, my chances went WAY up. It was a done deal IF his preacher was there also. Why the kitchen table? Because it was reserved for family and close friends.
The young man had been dating Daddy’s girl for almost a year. They were getting serious and had secretly discussed marriage, just never in front of her parents. Finally, he gets up the courage to ask his future Father- in- Law for his daughter’s hand in marriage. Where does the request take place? At the kitchen table.
Daddy comes home from the assembly plant like he has done for 20 years. The kids can tell that something isn’t quite right at supper. Finally, after dessert, he breaks the news that the plant is shutting down and they are going to have to move to a new town for him to find work. Where is the news delivered? At the kitchen table.
The daughter and son-in-law can’t wait to deliver the good news about their family. They had secretly placed notes under her parent’s placemats. At the appropriate time, she tells them to look under their mats for some news. “Congratulations. You are going to be Grandparents in March!” This type of life-changing news could only be delivered at one place: the kitchen table.
Junior just graduated from the University with honors. He had applied to several medical schools but every letter of hope turned into a letter of rejection. He was on the verge of giving up on his dream and taking an unrelated position to start paying off his mountains of school debt. One afternoon, the family was watching a baseball game on TV together when the UPS driver delivered a package that required a signature.
Junior signs for it and recognizes the return address is from the medical school which happened to be his top choice. Could this be it? Everybody moves to the kitchen and takes their seats as the letter is opened. The acceptance news is obvious as he starts jumping up and down with joy. Where was the news shared? Around the kitchen table.
Unfortunately, the disappointing news concerning the latest lab results, is received around the kitchen table.
Momma’s magical method of stretching the money until the end of the month is done around the kitchen table. The taxes were also done here.
Where were the S&H stamps glued into the books that would be exchanged for gifts like coffee pots and dishes? Around the kitchen table.
Where did the kids help Granny snap beans, shell peas and listen to her advice that ranged from choosing a husband to advice about the “vapors?” Around the kitchen table.
Kids put together model cars, science projects, and coin collections around the kitchen table.
Even though there was a desk in the study next to the World Books, homework just seemed to be done quicker and more efficiently, around the kitchen table.
Someday, if we live a purposeful life and love each other unconditionally, the Good Lord will call us Home. It may actually be to:
His Heavenly Kitchen Table.