The Tablecloth

Note: The main part of this story is based on actual events.

"And that ends the history lesson for today," said Margo's eight grade teacher. "Now for the assignment. The school is planning on making a time capsule. What I want every student to do is bring in a special item to place in the capsule. It can be something of yours or a family member. In addition, you need to write a story about why it is special and present it to the class by the end of the week. Are there any questions?"

Margo raised her hand. "Do we have to participate?"

"No," the teacher said. She then smiled. "But it would be to your advantage. The project is worth 100 points on your grade. For those who don't participate, there will be a quiz over everything we've gone over this semester."

Margo sighed. She definitely didn't want to take the quiz, but for the life of her, she couldn't think of anything special to bring, much less write about. She listened to a few other students talk about what they might bring. One student said she had a picture of herself with a famous singer, but she didn't say who. Another said he had a pair of spurs that was given to his great grandfather from the famous actor, John Wayne. And still another said she had a video of herself when the doctor announced she was cancer free. A few moment later, the bell rang to go home for the day.

"What are you going to bring, Margo?" Sally Campbell asked as they walked to the bus.

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

When she got home, she put her books on the table and started looking around the house. She would pick up an object, look at it and put it back. She went through a box of old toys and clothes, but found nothing that would be interesting. She went to the living room and flopped on the couch. She then turned, threw her legs over the back of the couch and hung her head off the cushion toward the floor. She saw her great granny sitting in her favorite rocking chair crocheting.

"I know what the inverted position on the couch means, Margo. You've got a problem. Why don't you tell Granny Claira what's on your mind?"

She told her about the time capsule. "I've got nothing special to put in it that wouldn't have a boring story to tell." Margo thought for a moment. "Granny Claira, you've been around for 98 years. By chance, you wouldn't happen to have anything with an interesting story, would you?"

Granny Claira stopped rocking for a moment and thought. "Hmm, as a matter of fact, I just might. Follow me." She stood, and with the help of her walker, she wheeled into her bedroom with Margo following and then set down in the rocking chair in her bedroom. "Look in the bottom of my trunk over in the corner. You will find a flat box. Take it out and open it up."

Margo went to the seaman's chest that used to belong to her great grandfather before he passed. In the bottom she found the box. She pulled it out and saw a cloth carefully wrapped in plastic. She took it out of the plastic and spread it across the bed. It was a white, fancy, lace tablecloth that had rose designs crocheted through out. Margo laughed. "What's so special about a tablecloth?"

"It's not necessarily the tablecloth in itself, but the story behind it that made me angry and later made me laugh. Take a seat, and I'll tell you."

***

Margo, with the help of Granny Claira, worked on her story, and when Friday came, she was anxious to present her contribution to the time capsule. When she was called upon, she walked to the front of the class with the tablecloth draped over her arm. She then handed it to her teacher and she spread it out.

"This is beautiful!" her teacher said.

Then one of the boys in class laughed and asked, "What's so special about a tablecloth?"

Margo sneered at him. "It's almost 100 years old for one thing."

"No heckling, George," the teacher scolded, and then she made him stand in the corner.

"Now, here is the story behind this old tablecloth," Margo said and then she began reading.

The year 1940 was a time when the cost of bread was outrageously

priced at a nickel, gasoline was rationed due to World War II and the U.S. was starting to climb its way out of the Great Depression.

It was also a time when the family sat down at the dining room table, ate together and talked about their day, instead of eating in front of the television without saying a word to one another.

It was during that time that my great grandparents were a young

couple. My great grandfather was a cabinet maker. He made many pieces of furniture in their modest home, including the dining room table that was crafted and skillfully carved in mahogany wood, on which my great grandmother served the family meals.

The table had been an anniversary gift for my great grandmother,

and she adorned it with one of her many beautiful, crocheted or

embroidered tablecloths. The women in the neighborhood, who

visited on occasion, would always comment on how lovely her

dining room always looked.

At this particular time, my great grandparents had two children. My grand father, age six at the time, and his older brother, age eight. In a few more years, the boys would have a sister, but at that time, she was yet to be a gleam in her mother's eye. But even though times were hard, they managed to keep food on the table, clothes on their backs, plus a little extra to spend on an occasional movie or a sack of White Castles, which were a dime apiece.

One evening, my great grandparents were invited to attend an

engagement party a few houses down. The daughter of one of their

neighbors was getting married. They’d left their two boys with a sitter for the couple of hours they’d be gone.

The boys were supposed to be in bed, but being boys, they still wanted to play. While the babysitter was on the porch talking to a friend, the two sneaked out of bed. They lit a candle and went into a closet to search for a particular toy to play with. Upon finding it, they shut the door and returned to their room.

However, the boys had been careless with the candle. The flame

had touched the hem of their mother’s fur coat, and it caught fire.

By the time the babysitter smelled the smoke, it was too late. The fire had spread to the ceiling. She quickly ushered the boys out of the house and ran to the nearest neighbor, who had a telephone, to call the fire department.

By then, the house was consumed in flames and a crowd had

gathered. My great grandparents stood and watched as the firemen battle the blaze, grateful that their children were unharmed.

Soon the fire was out. The exterior of the house still stood, but the interior was ruined and nothing survived the fire, including my great grandmother’s beautiful table and the finery she decorated it with. The only thing they had were the clothes on their backs. Everything was gone. Since the house was unlivable they spent the night with a friend.

The next day, clean up began. The neighborhood my great grandparents lived in were a close knit group of people. One of their friends decided to throw a party for them. They needed everything and each family spared a little of their hard earned money to buy them gifts.

Margo stopped reading for a moment and just told the rest of the story. "Now here is the funny thing about the story. They had no clothes or shoes, yet, when the party was over, my great grandmother looked at all the gifts they’d been given. She said she didn’t know whether to cry, laugh, or be angry, because wrapped in each and every box was a tablecloth. In total, my great grandmother received thirty-seven tablecloths and didn't have a table to put one on. Over the years this was the only one she kept."

When she finished reading, the class laughed and her story was applauded like everyone else's. After her picture was taken with the tablecloth and a copy of her story was made to be posted on a special board in the hallway, Margo put the tablecloth back in the plastic along with her story about it. Just before school let out everyone gathered in the gym who had an item to include and when it was her turn, she placed the tablecloth in the container it would be seal in to be opened after 50 years had passed.

As Margo walked to the bus, she received several compliments about her story from students and other teachers who'd read it on the board. When she got home, she kissed her granny on the cheek and thanked her. She then pulled out a writing tablet and a pencil and sat down. "Granny, do you have any other stories like that?"