By Imelda Possberg – Spruce Grove, Alta.
I loved Agnes York’s story in the June, 2012 issue about the kitchen table. Every home had different needs that this memorable piece of furniture seemed to satisfy.
Many a traveller that called on my dad’s shop for orders of supplies partook of the noon meal with us. They’d time it to come around 11 in the morning because they knew no one left without being invited.
On the same table, we did our homework. We didn’t have desks in our bedrooms in those days. Mom’s music pupils did their music dictation. Mom taught two young men Latin so they could take pharmacy at the university, all on that table.
Mom would sit in the evening and crochet or embroider using it to hold her craft materials, and, of course many patterns for sewing were cut on its linoleum covered surface.
At our table, dad read the Winnipeg Tribune each evening after it arrived by train and the paper carrier brought it to our home. Often one of my brothers was the newspaper carrier.
When we were little girls my sister and I coloured pictures, made cutout dolls from old catalogues, and cut our valentines. The Eaton’s and Simpson’s catalogues were devoured in that same spot.
Games of chess, checkers, bingo at family gatherings, Clue, Monopoly as well as card games made it the fun centre. No wonder when we visit an antique shop we feel a need to run our hands over the surface of some old table on display.
With a roaring fire in the coal and wood heater and a cup of hot chocolate on a winter’s evening, it was the most comforting and comfortable place in our home.