Tablecloths

I like tablecloths. My grandmother had tablecloths. My mother had tablecloths. I don't care for the vinyl ones I only like fabric. I have three from my grandmother's house which I got after my mother died. They are smallish maybe tables were sized differently in the '20s I don't care about tables only cloths. One of the tablecloths fits a card table. It has an embroidered design on the corners that hangs off the edges of a square folding table. I don't know for a fact but I am pretty sure that my mother used this cloth when she was first married and hosting a 42 party in my parents little garage apartment on Canal Street in Houston. My mother grew up in house where cards were forbidden but domino games were approved, 42 is a domino game with partners and bidding. I know almost nothing of my mother's newlywed life but I know that socially my parents met with friends from their church, Milby Street Church of Christ. I have one letter that my mother wrote to her mother about a new skirt she had sewn and her plan to wear it to a 42 party on Saturday night.

I buy tablecloths at Ross stores because I can get a cloth for my 102 inch rectangular table for under ten dollars. I'm not terribly picky but I like bright colors. I prefer casual patterns because I don't have a formal dining room or china but for 8 bucks I'll take just about anything because to my eyes a tablecloth is more inviting that a bare table.

One time I brought home a pretty dark green gingham cloth that I was particularly pleased with. I immediately put it on the table and my husband came into the room and duly admired it. He doesn't necessarily care about tablecloths but he is a wise man who knows how to be supportive.My daughter walked in a few minutes later and inquired, "Oh, what's that?"

"Oh, just a new tablecloth I got."

"Why didn't you get a pretty one?" she asked.

Oh dear, a microcosm of the relationship between all three of us. My husband immediately jumps to my defense. My daughter closes up and mumbles sorry. And I am startled into a laugh and a weak attempt to try to disarm my husband. My daughter was not trying to be mean or insulting. You could hear the genuine puzzlement in her voice. I was laughing because I did think it was pretty but my daughter and I do not have the same taste. My husband was trying to maintain the line of respect which is very important to him and which our daughter does challenge from time to time. I still think about that moment every time I look at that tablecloth. I still laugh and feel a little bit sad at the same time.