The Dinette Set

My daughter and I removed the 1950s, blue Formica top table with chrome sides and legs from my grandmother's house.  My grandmother has always referred to it as the dinette set. My grandmother is not dead, she is 96 and very much alive. She said I could have the table and the four chairs. It is the little table that sat in her turquoise kitchen throughout my childhood. It is the table I sat at to eat the rice pudding my grandfather made for us, and the atole with a giant cinnamon stick my grandmother would make for me. The weekend would bring a 1950s Mamie pink Rubbermaid container filled with cold potato salad and a pitcher of Lipton Instant Tea with a plate of Shake-N-Bake and green beans. I always loved this table and it's place in my grandparent's orderly home and turquoise kitchen with the impeccably clean floor. There was a place for everything and she'd move across the room cooking, cleaning as she went along, drying and putting things right back in the drawers, trays and cupboards where they lived. After a meal my grandfather would wash the dishes or dry while she washed. I saw my grandmother clean the sides and legs of the table a few times, early on a Saturday morning while Tradio played on their radio and the house smelled strongly of Pine-O-Pine.

It was sometime during college that the table disappeared from her kitchen. In it's place was a round wooden table and four chairs. Upon seeing this for the first time I immediately panicked and asked where the table was. In Austin I saw these things sell for up to $300 and my grandmother was known to suddenly part with longtime pieces of furniture or tschoskes in her home. She  would buy furniture, my grandfather would restore it and they'd sell it for much higher prices. They also sold various vintage items they would come across at garage sales. This side hustle went on for twenty years and proved to be so lucrative they had to start paying taxes. So I was afraid the table had left the house and taken all the dreams I had for it, which was to bring it to Austin with me and set it up in my own kitchen. I never got to do that, however, I did own a red Formica and metal table.

The table was in the salesroom with some boxes on it and the chairs tucked neatly under it. I asked why it was there and my grandmother just mumbled something about something else. I remember saying, "Don't sell, Granmo!" and there was mumbling, but my grandfather smiled and said , "We won't sell it, mija".  And they never did, it sat in that room , with the boxes on it until I removed it from their house just the other day. It was easy, the table is light, we carried it out without issue, as it fit neatly through all the doors. I placed it in my truck and told August to always own a truck. Look at what I have been able to do these past several years with all our moves and in and out of storage, always have a truck so you can get it all done right away and not have to rent a truck or ask someone."

I cleaned the table in the garage and brought her into the house, placed  her on a newly cleaned floor and now... I need to clean the chairs. It feels weird. This table has not been out of my grandmother's house since 1950, 1952. It knows all my dad's breakfast's, all the arguments, all their friends and gossip over coffee, all my childhood chatter over sherbet ice cream. My grandmother loved that table because she didn't place it in the room in the back of the house where things usually went. Everything back there was ruined when the roof suffered storm damage and then a family of racoons moved in. Nothing in there was salvageable and I watched it all get thrown into a large truck and hauled away. She loved that table because it was one of the first pieces of furniture they bought and because it was never sold. Their first living room chairs were sold, their first tv stand was sold, their first stereo console with 8 track player was sold.

My daughter and I will have our Thanksgiving dinner on the table this year. Currently looking for the right tablecloth. I just needed a minute to think and feel. The table looks so cute and petite in my kitchen. I still can't believe I removed it from my grandmother's house. Upon it I put a soul and memories and think of the life it has had. I guess I am letting it get use to it's surroundings before I begin using it. My kid walked in tonight and said, "It's happy here and starting to feel loved and wanted again."