the table

The kitchen was always the centre of the house, in fact, we had what was called a living kitchen then, one large room with a table and chairs in the middle, a cast iron range to one side and a dresser to the other. If the kitchen was the centre, the table was the heart of our home. We had our meals at it, father read the paper there and I did my homework. Any family discussions were held here, fists banging the table for emphasis when the talk became heated. The few visitors we had were invited to take a seat, and uncles and aunts had their own regular places. I took my books here, colouring books to start, later picture books, then reading books. In the evenings mum and dad and I played cards or board games, likeBlack Peter (Schwarzer Peter)and Mensch Aergere Dich Nicht.