A Table with Nine Lives?

Posted on by Victoria

Last week we learned that one of hubster Paul’s cousins – who was also named Paul – passed away. His mother was Paul’s father’s sister…and wait for it…his father was Paul’s mother’s brother. A geneticist would no doubt enlighten me about the quirky double-dose of DNA but in a moment of melancholy yesterday, my heart was engaged, not my head.

Receiving the sad news, I placed my fingers on my old mahogany “desk”, one that looks strikingly similar to the table in the image above and felt a wave of sweet memories as I allowed my fingers to slide across the cool, dark wood, nearly sensing a heartbeat.  An echo of cousin Paul and other extended family, long gone. Yes. From a piece of wood.

You see, once upon a time, my current desk was the beloved dining room table in cousin Paul’s childhood home. When his mother died (Aunt La to us) in 1994, the lovely trestle table with endless “leaves” found its way to my in-laws home.  They kept Aunt La’s hospitality traditions alive, remembering that she always had room at her table for one or two more. When the crowd was larger than the dining room could hold, seemingly endless extra leaves extended the table’s length into Aunt La’s tiny living room, creating a fun ‘t-shape’, allowing smaller tables for the little ones to branch out, both left and right.

After my in-laws, Joe and Maxine passed away, the beloved table traveled to our home. With those trusty leaves popped in and out, it’s been a small dinette à deux, a substantial side table, and yes, occasionally a dining room table, but for the past three years it’s been my beloved desk. I love knowing that my hands, as they work at this mahogany tableau, are resting on surfaces that were dear to so many who sat and laughed, argued and ate in this very spot. 

Is it possible to receive inspiration from well-worn antique?  I think so.

There are watermarks (some mine, some the remnants of holidays past) and gouges.  Scratches and scrapes and if I had a nickel for every time I kicked my own shin as I whacked my leg into the supports below, I’d…I dunno…have a lot of nickels? 

With Aunt La’s son, cousin Paul, now gone, I wonder if we should reach out to his grown children to inquire, once again, if they want their grandmother’s table.  When they were asked years ago, they had no interest, but perhaps they’ve changed their minds. As much as we cherish it and I use it daily, IT IS an heirloom and a visible artifact of love and togetherness, reminding me of how important it is to honor sweet Aunt La’s holiday traditions: 

Her trademark sour cream coffee cake (with too many raisins, according to her critics) and the undercooked lamb, saved only by ample mint jelly. 

What Aunt La lacked in culinary expertise she made up for with expansive warmth and welcoming grace. Her rosy cheeks and billowing laughter, traits inherited by her dear son and only child Paul.

The older I become, the more I treasure family history in my hands.

The older I become, the more wistful I am as I hold objects that were once dear and beloved by others. 

The resonance and reverb of fingertips on everyday items is joyous, especially household goods with purpose, just like the table with nine lives…and leaves… that’s now my desk.

My post on Victoria Ponders will tell you more about the intertwining of comfort of sentiment, cherishing both dear people and precious objects.  Never have I felt that upswell more than this year, since we’ve wrapped up our nearly year-long kitchen remodel. Take a peek if you have a moment. I’m ever-grateful for your readership and comments.

Vicki ❤

43 thoughts on “A Table with Nine Lives?”

  1. Pingback: Sentimental Significance – Victoria Ponders

    2. And learning the stories behind them! What caused that watermark? How was that dent made?

      I remember having a chance to visit an archeological dig and get to touch a wall that was built over 3,000 years ago and marvelous at the many hands that touched it over the millennia… it gives one a different perspective on life?

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      1. Oh my goodness…I loved Beth’s comment and where you went with it, EW. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to witness an archeological dig –how amazing that you did. I can imagine some shivers of a sort as you touched an ancient wall. Yep – same wave of feeling as the wonder I have about those watermarks, dents and dings. Where, when, why…and who! xo! 🥰

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  6. Sending condolences to your family Vicki.

    What a lovely gesture, to check back with family to offer the grand table and extensions back into the fold. Pieces like that are lovely and hold so many memories but it also takes a major space to hold and use a large and expanding object for sure! Most folks simply don’t have the space for that, and so many now really want a very different look and vibe in their modern homes. I think you may be keeping your table/desk and it’s memories.

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  7. I’m so sorry for your loss. This sentence grabbed me, “in a moment of melancholy yesterday, my heart was engaged, not my head.” I think the objects that help us engage our hearts are indeed precious. Thanks for sharing yours, dear Vicki! Sending lots of love to you, Paul, and the whole family! ❤ ❤ ❤

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  8. I’m sitting in my rocking chair that belonged to my grandmother, then my mom, my brother and they had it redone for me for my first child. I was supposed to pass it on to the next generation, but nobody wants it. I love the memories the chair gives me. I can so relate to your table and I’m so sorry for your family’s loss.

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    1. I see a theme unfolding here…which makes me think it’s all the more important to write about these objects and heirlooms – to tell the story of their significance just in case those who follow us decide to part with the items. I love the input from Jane and Deb about that and our dear blogger/author friend Joy Neal Kidney is certainly an example to follow about capturing family history. I’m so glad you’re sitting in your beloved chair, Elizabeth. Rock on, my friend! 🥰

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  9. Peace and blessings to both of you during this difficult time. And yes, I feel the same way, “The older I become, the more I treasure family history in my hands. The older I become, the more wistful I am as I hold objects that were once dear and beloved by others. The resonance and reverb of fingertips on everyday items is joyous, especially household goods with purpose, just like the table with nine lives…and leaves… that’s now my desk.”

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  11. I love the idea of a piece of family furniture that gets passed down through the generations – each passing bringing an even richer history to the new owner. Such a great tradition.

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  12. As a traditionalist, I love the passing of furniture. When I’m sitting at a well-used table, I can’t help but think of all the letters that were written there.

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  13. I just gave a 60-year-old desk to my oldest son who actually wanted it. Even though the desk wasn’t in the greatest shape-it had been chewed buy a dog and glued and screwed in indiscreet places-it was a loved eyesore. It was wonderful to be able to keep it in the family. 🙂

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  16. I read this yesterday while out-and-about and can just feel how alive the antiques are. My parent’s home is also filled with antiques–a highboy chest, a large music box, a baby grand made from salvaged wood during WWII, steamer trunks, the dollhouse my great-grandfather build for my grandma, etc. They all have stories! There is something truly magical about the history, legacy, and memories woven into old, well-built furniture. Whether the table is re-homed or continues to live with you, so glad that’s staying in the family. 🥰

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    1. Thank you, Erin. Your parent’s home sounds so lovely…pieces with loads of history and loads of stories, just as you said. We may not be able to keep all of them in our families but given your ability to write so lovingly about your family history and the treasures – people and things – I have no doubt the pieces will live on forever and ever. So good. xo! 🥰

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