Picnic table joins wish list

A few summers ago I was working outside in the flower beds. A young boy stopped to chat. He told me that he remembered our house because it had a red picnic table. I told him we had never had a picnic table, let alone a red one. 

He still insisted that we once had a red picnic table. He concluded his argument by saying, “Some people just don’t remember.” I agreed with him and he went on his way.

Long before that boy had been born we did have a picnic table. It was white, not red. It was one that had been in my grandmother’s barn until we asked if we could have it. We had many good meals at that table. When it was time to move we returned the table to the barn.

After we settled into our current house we had considered taking the table home with us. However, my brother, Michael, burned the barn down and the table was reduced to ashes. It wasn’t Michael’s fault. He had left a potbelly stove running while he took a friend home. Even though he wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes, the fire was hot enough to throw burning embers onto the dry wood of the barn and “poof!” it was gone.

We were at my in-laws at the time. The fire made the news and it took a few minutes to realize that it was Grandma’s barn. She was mostly bedridden at that time. Someone called for an ambulance to take her away from the smoke. They dropped her two or three times before they got her into the ambulance. The barn and its contents were a total loss. Michael was distraught.

I think of that fire every time I read or hear a warning that cautions us to wait until conditions are better before building a fire for any reason. The words of Smokey Bear ring loud and clear. “Only you can prevent forest fires.”

Several years ago we got together with some cousins whom we had not seen for decades. Gary and the twins, Marilyn and Carolyn, were technically Mom’s cousins as their dad was my grandmother’s youngest brother. They were closer to my age than to Mom’s.

The conversation wandered into talking about the barn. Gary had always loved the machine that took the corn off the cob and ground it into something the chickens could eat. The hand cranked apparatus had been bolted onto the edge of the workbench.

Gary could entertain himself for a really long time playing with it. In addition to the picnic table, the barn held tons of treasures. There was a cupboard we weren’t allowed to mess with. It held all of Grandpa’s planes, hammers and all kinds of woodworking tools. There were boxes of Campbell’s Kids plastic toys, courtesy of the previous owner. On the one end of the hayloft was a bunch of treasures that my uncle Norman, had found at flea markets. I have a settee that he had bought somewhere and abandoned. When any of the cousins came over the barn was the first  place we went.

By the time Michael burned the barn down, the cousins and I had lost touch. Going exploring in a barn had lost its charm. We would all rather do anything than to visit with relatives. 

I have considered getting a new picnic table. A major challenge is that there is no easy way to get to our backyard without walking halfway around the house. We do have a nice side porch. The problem is that it faces west so the sun shines in our eyes whenever we want to sit out there in the evening.

I am unsure if a picnic table would fit in the car. The best way to get one is to build one ourselves. I’ll add it to the wish  list.