With everyone recently talking about their plans for Christmas dinner, I had sparks of images, like fireworks. Memories of the past niggle in my thoughts: a table stretched to its full length, chairs hauled from all the far reaches of the house and arranged mismatched in mom’s kitchen.
Mom’s table was solid wood, with large, elaborate barley-twist legs. It had three extra leaves to insert and could hold 14 or so.
My own table over the years was another matter. When we were first married, we lived for a few months in Port Moody and then Coquitlam where Rob had a summer job.
We arrived with only what Jane, Rob’s mom, could fit into our four-cylinder powder blue Volkswagen hatchback. She could pack like a pro. We borrowed furniture from the church basement. The first apartment had a simple table and two stackable chairs from the Sunday school department.
The second was a bachelor suite and had no need of a table. We had to return it because there was no room.
We went from there back to Bible school where we had a table made of sturdier stuff. Dad had purchased a smaller wooden table at an auction. It had a decorative accent around the edge; I think it was a Greek key pattern.
It was passed back and forth among the siblings as each couple married and were not yet able to provide furnishings for ourselves. I believe Dave and Judy had it for a time. Perhaps the finishes were Dave’s handiwork. He had a good touch with restoring furniture.
We lived for a short time in Blackfalds and then Ponoka and I know that the table was not with us. Later when we moved to Calgary it sat in our dining space once again.
In Calgary we rented a small quirky house, next door to the Nazarene Church. The house had been slated for demolition but was available for about a year. Jane loved our little house. It spoke to her of her own past perhaps. She rushed in and applied new, bright wallpaper to walls that were beginning to sag with age. The lath and plaster needed replacing but there wasn’t much purpose in doing that.
Our cheery dining room provided ample room for the travelling table and we set it up stretched to its full length. It could hold six comfortably but was regularly pushed beyond that.
At the time our son was a toddler and we cuddled him into the family high chair. We also had the family crib, a metal frame with wooden sides that could be lowered to provide a child-sized bed.
The table hosted many family feasts in that house on 14th Avenue. Of course family arrived to assist and hauled in boxes laden with hearty aromas.
One Christmas our guest list included my folks, Rob’s mom and dad and Auntie Ann as well as my grandparents. The front room in that house was originally a tiny, formal parlour, with tall stained- glass windows. Its high gloss dark woodwork and plate board spoke of lost grandeur.
We had a hand-me-down sofa from Larry when he moved to Montana. It was extra long and filled the wall completely. An armchair and end table completed the miniature space. A gas fireplace had been added at some point and provided a faded ambiance.
We weren’t able to position many people at our table so several used the front room as an overflow area. We have a snapshot of Auntie Ann with our son cuddled beside her on the sofa.
I’m grateful we took so many pictures. That entire generation is gone now, except for my mom. We were blessed, with helping hands, listening ears and shoulders to cry on.
- Hoey is a longtime Gazette columnist
