
The table in the dining room side was a long plank table, sanded smooth and varnished. It easily sat eight. The table was surrounded by mismatched wooden chairs, some given to us by neighbors, others salvaged from old houses, but each one painstakingly sanded and refinished. Every meal the table was set with dishes and silverware--fork to the left of the plate, then the knife and spoon to the right. At breakfast there was always a mug for Mom and Daddy's coffee, and a cup and saucer at night for tea. A napkin was placed under the fork.
When the table was set, Mom would place the food on the pass through and we would place it on the table. After everyone had washed their hands, we all sat down, and after a prayer, enjoyed our meal together. The talk would be about what was going on in our world. All of us joined in this conversation. In the evening, there was a dessert, with a little more talking, then the table was cleared and dishes washed and dried. Life centered around the table. It was where we voiced our dreams, discussed our problems, and expanded our thinking. We came together as a family and for just a time shut out the distractions of the outside world.