When my mom passed away she left us no money but lots of paperback Agatha Christie mysteries. She also left a few odds and ends of furniture from my great grandmother. My sister took home the stone sundial from the garden and I ended up with an old cherry side table. Besides the table which sat in a side room for years were worn out chairs, a broken footstool and curious table leaves with legs that took up permanent residence in the attic.

One night as I was reorganizing things recently I began to examine the spare table parts thinking maybe I could recut them for shelves. In a flash it came to me like when you suddenly realize where a puzzle piece fits. They were designed to fit snugly into the slots on the old side table! That’s when I remembered why they had seemed strangely familiar. Together they made up the table at which I had sat down to breakfast with great grandmother 60 years ago. Since we were the only two early risers in the family she welcomed me to sit with her if I was good. After eating she delighted in showing me her scrap books filled with clippings from the Chicago world’s fair and of her travels to Australia. It was she who passed along her great sense of adventure for the life that lay ahead of me and behind her. How our world has changed from those long ago days. Bur in my heart rests those sweet memories of a woman who shared her stories . So it isn’t just about holding on to old dusty furniture that I am writing tonight. It is about a respect and love for others that we once shared as families, communities and as a nation. We learned that life was more than just what we could take from others. What really mattered was sitting down at the table together and learning about the endless possibilities that lay ahead!