THE DINING ROOM TABLE

Dear Emily,

     Sundays are special days for me.  Obviously, I love Sunday because it's the day we worship with our church family; however, there's another reason that Sundays are so special.  Every Sunday, our family gathers here after church for Sunday dinner.  We catch up with what everyone has done through the week, discuss upcoming plans, tell old stories, and laugh a lot.  It's such a special time to sit around the dining room table in the sunroom and to just be together.  Naturally, as the family has grown, the space around the table has become more crowded.  Quite often, someone will say "Mom, you need to get a larger dining table." And I always say "No."

     The table is special - even though it is smaller than a standard size dining room table, it has a history and it's the history that secures its place in the house.  Daddy bought the table at Mrs. McBride's sale in the mid '60's.  He was the auctioneer for her estate sale following her death.  We needed a kitchen table to replace the old red and white Formica one Mama and Daddy got when they married,  so when this table came up on the sale block, Daddy sold it to himself!  

     Mrs. McBride was the town florist for many years.  She operated the flower shop from the screened-in back porch of her house, located on the south end of Chapel Hill.  The house is still there although it has undergone several changes in the past few years.    Mrs. McBride, a widow, was a short, plump lady with steel gray hair.  Her braids were pinned in a circle around her head. The table sat on the back porch where Mrs. McBride must have spent hours cutting and arranging flowers for weddings, funerals, recitals, proms, and other miscellaneous events.  Since she used the table as a cutting board, the resulting knife marks can easily been seen across the three wide boards which are secured to a frame and attached to four beautifully turned legs.   Mrs. McBride and her flowers were a staple in Chapel Hill for many years.    Her beautiful arrangements were all created with flowers cut and trimmed right on this table - the table that now sits in my dining room.  

     I could get a new table - a new table would be larger and shiner without any scars; however the scars that criss-cross the top of that table are a tribute to a special woman - a woman who embraced a skill that enabled her to earn a living and to provide the Chapel Hill community with beauty that enhanced our lives for many years.  

     "No, I won't be getting a new table. Now squeeze together!" 

Love,

BB

 

       

CORONAVIRUS TIME

April 2020

Dear Emily,

            Today was another Sunday without going to church for a worship service.  Another Sunday that our family has not gathered for our regular Sunday lunch.  Another Sunday full of reports of more people dying from Covid19, and even more people testing positive for the virus.  Another day of quarantine for families and for individuals.  Businesses and schools have closed, restaurants offer take-out only, and grocery store shelves have been raided of staples like eggs, flour, potatoes, and toilet paper.  The entire world is in the middle of a pandemic caused by some man eating a diseased bat in China back in November. I wonder at how that one sad little mistake could affect the Brown households – yet here we are. 

            I have seen the world staggered by sadness and fear several times throughout my life.  I was in the 8^th Grade the November day that President Kennedy was assassinated on a Friday while riding in an open convertible through the streets of Dallas, Texas.  The weekend was quiet and solemn as the country adjusted to the devastating loss, grieving for the President and for the husband and father of two young children. 

            Fast forward to January 28, 1986 – the day the Challenger exploded.  The Challenger was a space shuttle that had been scheduled to lift off days earlier, but the flight had been delayed because of weather and technical difficulties.  This flight was not the first shuttle flight, but the entire country, especially educators, were excited because Christy McAuliffe, a thirty-seven years old social studies teacher and the first private civilian to travel to space, was slated for the trip.  She had trained for weeks and was planning to send all kinds of information about space to students back on earth.  On the day that the launch was cleared as a “go,” teachers all over the country wheeled televisions into their classrooms so that students could watch the historic event.  Seventy-three seconds after the launch, with millions of people watching, the Challenger exploded in mid-air.  I remember crying myself to sleep that night. 

            September 11, 2001 – the events of that day touched the life of every American and changed so many things about the way we live.  We had felt safe on American soil – much like the sleepers in Herot until Grendel attacked.  That day planes flew into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.  Another plane headed to attack the U.S. Capitol building was forced down by the brave passengers who overtook the terrorists and crashed the plane into a field in Pennsylvania.  The world was stunned.  It was a beautiful day – clear blue skies – the air was crisp – just a hint of coming fall.  It was a day that nothing bad could possibly happen, and then evil fell out of the sky.  When I turned on the television in my classroom, it was early in the chaos.  Only the first tower had been hit. We were confused.  How could a plane get so far off course?  And then, as we watched in horror, a second plane flew into the second tower and both towers began to topple. We realized with disbelief that the United States was under attack.  Peter Jennings was the ABC anchor that morning.  He reacted in stunned silence as people began to jump from windows high in the towers.  Then, after a quiet few seconds, his voice breaking with emotion, Peter Jennings quoted the memorable words of Thomas Paine: “Ladies and Gentlemen – ‘These are the times that try men’s souls.’”

            In between these times, history has been punctuated with school shootings – Columbine, Richland, and on and on.  Sadly, these horrific occurrences have become so common place that we hardly blink an eye when and if we even hear about them – they usually are not the lead story on the nightly news anymore. 

            Now, we are in a season for the record books.  The entire world is under siege by this mysterious and deadly coronavirus.  The enormity of the ravages left in the wake of this virus cannot be measured by my feeble brain.  As of yet, the virus has not reached Caney Spring, and we are all doing our part to hold it at bay.  We are staying at home unless we have to leave the house for essential needs – the grocery store and pharmacy, possibly the Co-op so that the animals can eat too.  The state parks have closed so that has stopped me from walking there each day, but fortunately, we live in the country.  I have lots of places to walk.   I haven’t hugged you in a month – and it looks like it will be at least another month before I can. I miss you!!   And yet, I see so many blessings for which to give thanks. 

            Mainly, I am thankful for the memories that you will have of the Spring of 2020.  All of this crisis simply swirls above your head.  You are eight years old, and for the first time in your young life, both of your parents are at home together with you and Simon almost every day.  Being administrators, both have had to go to school a few times, but for the most part, their days are spent, not only being at home, but also doing things with you that they would hardly have had the time or energy to do if this virus had not closed school indefinitely.  You and your mother have watched movies, made crafts, painted each other’s nails, and when the boredom has gotten too much, you’ve headed for Sonic.  One warm afternoon, all of you put up tents out behind the garden where you and your daddy planned to sleep that same night.  The next day you told me that you would have been fine, but his back started to hurt so he woke you to return to the house to spend the rest of the night in your beds.  But what a memory!  One afternoon you Face-timed me to show me that you were peeling carrots and potatoes because your daddy was making beef stew, and he had assigned you that job. Your mom and Simon were sitting at the kitchen table playing cards. Everyone was laughing and talking at the same time.  You were having a ball!    Another day I took horse feed to your house.  When I pulled in the driveway, there were you and your daddy.  You had a 2 x 4 board braced across one of the raised garden bed dividers.  Your foot was holding the board still while you sawed back and forth with both hands and the determination of a master builder – ponytail bobbing from side to side.  When that job was done, you took the tape measure, measured and lined off eighteen inches, and started sawing again.  You said you were making “frames.”  Actually, you were making memories. 

            I am reminded of one of my favorite lines from “Snowbound” –

                                    “What matter how the night behaved?

                                    What matter how the north wind raved?

                                    Blow high, blow low, not all its snow

                                    Could quench our hearth fire’s ruddy glow….”

Like the young narrator in the poem, you too are enveloped in the security of home and family.  This virus which raves and blows all around us in the outside world can’t “quench” the love that warms and shelters you.  Eventually, this crisis will pass, and life will return to “normal.”  I look forward to the day when I can spend up close and personal time with you!  But until then, you are with parents who love you and love each other.  They are doing an awesome job! You are healthy and happy and having a wonderful time just being together.

            And for this blessing, I most thank God.   

BB