The Willow Glen Resident Photograph courtesy of Cookie Curci-Wright Sounding Board: Grandma's dining room table was the place to be for huge meals and lively conversation. Busy schedules table traditional family togetherness at dinnertime By Cookie Curci-Wright While shopping recently for a replacement chair for my table, I was told by the sales clerk that dining rooms and tables are passé. This is because of work schedules and lifestyles. Families rarely gather for big meals anymore, and most new homes do not include a formal dining room. If this is true, then I am saddened for the coming generation of kids who will never know the kind of family fun my generation enjoyed while sitting together around Grandma's dinner table. It's an unlikely-looking treasure, that old oak table of mine, with its cracks, weakening chairs and worn-out corners, but it is a treasure to me. The memories it holds are timeless and priceless. The old table, with its sideboards that extend its length to 10 feet, originally belonged to Grandma, who purchased it in 1921. It has at one time or another hosted all of my favorite friends and relatives: the Rizzolos, the Dinapolis, the Fran- ciscos, the Furdutos, the Wrights, the Kennedys and the Burks. Today, when I sit down at the table I cannot resist a temptation to stroke its surface to feel the tiny nicks and scratches made by each passing generation. I am reminded of my childhood, sitting down with my brother and cousins at Grandma's bountiful table, eager to gulp down one of her spicy Italian meals. At every meal, Grandma's dinner table was covered with platters of home cooking--pasta, artichokes, garlic bread, asparagus, chicken--along with a bottle of wine set nearest to Papa at the head of the table. The meal did not officially begin until Grandma repeated the wonderful word: "mangia, mangia (eat, eat)." I will always remember the noisy chatter and laughter that passed over the table at every mealtime. It was a celebration just to be seated all together at Grandma's dinner table. The aroma of her kitchen spices and slowly simmered tomato sauce teased our appetites all day long so that by dinnertime, we could not wait to indulge in a platter of saucy homemade noodles. When I first moved into my current home, I had few furnishings and even less to spend on new ones. It was Grandma's furniture that helped to fill our otherwise empty family room. Included in my inherited pieces of furniture was Grandma and Papa's RCA Victor Victrola. The record machine stands regally today in the corner of the family room not far from Grandma's table. My favorite memory of the Victrola is Papa's promise whenever we would visit: "If you kids are real good, I will let you crank the Victrola all by yourself:" His benign blackmail always worked to keep us well-behaved. Once a week Grandma tenderly polished the Victrola's wood frame with a cloth soaked in lemon oil that she kept inside the record machine. I remember how the fragrance of lemons scented the house on polishing day and how it lingered softly for hours on Grandma's fingertips. After supper, Grandma and Papa cranked up the old Victrola, and the timeless music of Caruso and Puccini filled every room of the house. Grandma, inspired by the music, waltzed gingerly around the room, her outstretched hands delicately holding her apron strings as if they were made of the finest silks and satins, and she the grandest lady. Papa's bright blue eyes sparkled with pride as he watched Grandma twirl around the room. Today whenever I open the Victrola, the slight fragrance of lemon oil still greets me, encouraging instant memories. I am brought back to a time when we gathered together after supper and entertained ourselves working puzzles, making things with Erector sets, modeling clay and Tinker Toys; when we played parlor games like checkers and Monopoly while sharing our experiences of the day. These were the days before television and computer games came along and we stopped entertaining ourselves. [ Back to Contents Page | Willow Glen Resident Home Page | Archives ] This article appeared in the Willow Glen Resident, September 23, 1998. ©1998 Metro Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.