Where do people gather in your home? In ours it’s around the kitchen table, which my husband handcrafted long before we married or had a family. Formally, he was Dr. Lavern Scott, university professor, part-time farmer, and full-time antique tractor enthusiast. But everyone called him Scotty.
Scotty’s walnut table is beautiful, but no longer flawless. Close inspection reveals scratches, visible letter imprints in the finish from an overzealous writer, and a deep gouge of a hanging stained-glass lamp that fell with a crash.
We conduct ordinary business at the table doing homework, preparing taxes, and grading papers. It’s where we cut fabric for sewing and Christmas paper for wrapping. We play Monopoly and Catch Phrase here. It offers a good view of the yard, so adults can work at the table while keeping an eye on kids playing outside. It’s a great place for snow gazing and quiet time with God!
The table has also hosted some unusual events. We once shared a meal with a cheerleader from the TV show Glee. A properly dressed chimp once sat in one of the chairs. The table served as a design studio for T-shirts for a Jonas Brothers concert and for feathered wings for a Jewel costume. (You’ll remember that she was the blue macaw in the movie Rio.) A Spanish student learned English here, too.
Scotty’s table reflects our tastes and traditions. We’ve served deviled eggs and angel cake. We’ve tied bundles of great grandma’s homemade hot tamales for steaming. We’ve kneaded colorful homemade playdough. Grandma Lucille’s homemade noodles were cut and dried here. And this table has a secret! Underneath is a hidden shelf just right for hiding Easter eggs or birthday presents.
Sometimes we add another leaf, changing the circle to an oval, and invite more. We’ve gathered for holidays, gourmet nights, pizza nights, red-plate nights, and everyday nights. We’ve entertained old friends, new friends, boyfriends, and “what-to-do-with-you” friends. We’ve gathered here for confrontations as well as friendly conversation punctuated with laughter. The table has hosted talks that range from “I-can’t-wait-to-tell-you” to “gotta-pull-it-out-of-em.”
Our kitchen table marks the seasons of our life. Our toddlers sat here in their high chairs, always reaching and jabbering, convinced that our food had to be superior to what we placed on their trays.
As our children, John and Abby, grew older, we planned summer trips and made college plans. This is where we spread out blueprints for our new home. This table was part of a wedding and more than one graduation. We launched a Guatemalan mission trip here with the administering of immunizations. We’ve planned more than one auction here and hospice care too. Scotty passed away at home after a 15-year battle with bone marrow cancer.
Like your kitchen table, ours is a place for eating, working, gathering, and celebrating. But unlike yours, ours was built by my husband, Scotty—which isn’t bad for an industrial arts teacher who once sawed off his tie during a classroom demonstration.
Photo by Tim Marshall (Unsplash)
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