Earlier this evening……

“PJ, I have no idea what to do with this table – that has to be up to you. We’ve talked about this before and agreed that we probably paid too much for it and we’d be lucky to even get out money back…very lucky. But the fact is that it’s not practical for us to keep it. We’ve got a beautiful round oak pedestal table with four chairs and another dining room set with eight chairs. So what do we really need this one for?”

Shooting a less than lovable look over my right shoulder to combat his abrasive tone, I reply for the jazillionith time: “This table came over the Oregon Trail, probably from Vermont based on the types of wood used in it and the chairs – all good hardwood you know and five to six different kinds at that. You know, they used to make their furniture out of whatever wood was on their land after all and everyone who’s looked at this judges it to be from Vermont and approximately 150 to 180 years old. We can’t just give it away…where’s your sense of history, sentimentality and preservation? Don’t you care anything about those things?”

“Yes I do, but you yourself have admitted that you don’t like using the table – it sits too low and the chairs are uncomfortable. Seats are too small and the legs are too short. I feel like my knees are up under my chin and my butt’s falling over the sides when I sit in them. Besides, there’s only four regular chairs and one captain’s chair, as you call it – only five chairs and small ones at that.”

“Well, there were probably only five people in the family…the father, the mother and three children. Life was hard then and any furniture building was done after all the field work was done for the day and the animals fed and cared for. There wasn’t a lot of time and I don’t think they thought about a mixed set of six or eight – just what they needed to have. It was a different place in time living back then. They simply needed a table to eat on and chairs to sit on while they did it. End of story.”

George and I have had variations of this conversation for years now. I fell in love with the table the instant I saw it. There’s not a nail in it and the wood is all rounded at the edges from years of wear. You can easily see the hand planing on the underside and each of the chairs is just a bit different than the others.

I can see the wife and mother standing at the table during the day and kneading bread for her family while pies cool on one end and milk waits to be strained on the other.

I see the father and husband sitting at the head of the table after the meal is finished, elbows resting on the arms of his chair while lighting his pipe and relaxing for the first time at the end of a long, long day as he smiles and looks at his family.

I see the children after supper sitting around the table and doing their bookwork, oil lamp blazing and reflecting warmly in the dark patina of the wood, the room toasty warm from the nearby fireplace.

It’s true that the chairs aren’t comfortable – the seats are very small and the back support isn’t great, but he made it with his own hands – by candlelight late at night when he was so tired and his hands hurt from the work of the day. His sweat is dried into that wood.

“We don’t have to really use the table, George…we can just put it against this wall and use it as a sideboard. A lamp, some books, family pictures. There – that’s perfect. I CANNOT sell it……………..okay?”