Extending the Table

The table, even in its smallest form, is large. The family who first owned it must have entertained largely. It came to us about 30 years ago when it was too large for a retirement apartment, and we have loved it ever since.

Thanksgiving morning we pull it out all the way and find the five leaves and table pads. Then I lay the tablecloth a friend made many years ago that is the only one that will fit the table fully extended.

Next we dig out dishes and silver. There will be 17 at the table – about the max that it will hold even with five leaves. I teach our young Chinese teaching assistant, visiting for the weekend, how to lay two forks, two spoons and a knife, plate, glass. We skip the extra plates in light of space. The silver is a wild assortment of years of family and friend collections; the plates almost as varied. We pull out all the serving dishes we’ll need and stack them on the island in the kitchen.

Dinner is well underway by now. The turkey has been in for hours, the potatoes finished and tucked away to be warmed, as well as the squash. Cranberry of both the jelled and sauce varieties are chilling. One friend will bring salad and another, breads. There are vegetables on the counter to munch and the Dreamer brings humus. The Driver’s apricot cheese ball sits in the fridge with crackers ready.

At four the cars begin to arrive and family and friends pile into the house. There’s a loud mix of English and Chinese as greetings are exchanged. Children have grown and those who used to be tiny are now teens reaching out to hold the new generation. We tuck the oldest great-grandmother, now very fragile, into her seat before the rest of us descend the table.

Gathering at the table is a tight squeeze. Even though the table sits in the “living room” side of the colonial, this table was built for a house of a previous generation. As we start we sing our praise and thanksgiving. On a computer nearby the Dragon skypes in to say hello from afar where she is also with friends.

Conversation bounces around. Chinese and U.S. economics. Engineering projects. Business. Recipes for food. Origin of specific pieces of the silverware. Language confusion reigns. Conversations started in English revert to Chinese and vice-versa.

Across the table the teenage son of the mechanical engineer loads his third helping of mashed potatoes. In his rice based home, mashed potatoes aren’t common. Our young assistant has made friends with the teenage girl who first came here as a tiny infant. Where did the years go?

Finally we sit back and view the decimated platters and dishes. Dessert will wait for a while. Another feast has extended the table and it was rich.

Thanksgiving indeed.