Huldah's Table

Screen capture of Huldah Bell from a video, circa 1990

 Dear Will:

I'm writing to you in answer to my assignment in Cindy's class:  "My mother's kitchen . . ."

Well, you know that aunt Huldah's kitchen was much more welcoming than Mom's.  And Huldah even enjoyed cooking. But it's her dining room I'm remembering right now.  Where we first talked.  Do you remember?  You had come over to the house that night, Thursday, October 21, 1971, to celebrate my aunt's birthday.  I had just moved in with her that August to go to school at Idaho State.  Huldah was the last Hanson living in a house first purchased by my purported great grandfather to shelter his official and unofficial children.   Huldah's draft-age son and his wife at the time were also living with her.

The dining room was the largest in that 1896 house, built just seven years after the founding of the city.  Perhaps its size was based on the large family customary in those days.

I remember the room as dark and warm, with polished wood trim giving shape to old wallpaper. At one side was the archway leading to the front door. Opposite that was the swinging door that led to the kitchen, where all but celebratory meals were eaten.  In the center of the room was a great round table. To the side of the table was a bay window with a small cushioned seat and a view of the neighbor's yard.  Opposite were two doors, one to a bedroom that I would inhabit through my first school year, and one to the house's single bathroom.  The bathroom had the most decorations of any room in the house, including a roll of newsprint beside the roll of toilet paper to give folks the opportunity to write graffiti while they were seated.

The table itself was beautiful.  Large enough to seat twelve to fourteen people, it was probably a rich American walnut with a deep color from decades of dining and polishing.  Most of the time it was stacked with books and magazines as people ate their meals in the kitchen at a small square vinyl-topped table that sat six.

The night of Huldah's 56th birthday, chairs and benches were gathered from the kitchen and elsewhere to make places for the friends my aunt had invited over.  Most at the table were middle aged, unmarried people.  The youngsters included me, my twenty-something cousin and his wife.  The room smelled of roast turkey, bourbon and cigarette smoke.  There was a lot of laughter and drinking.  You seemed happy and comfortable in my aunt's space.  You were her good friend long before she introduced us.  Interesting that dementia wound up killing you both.

But back to that first night.  Remember, I'd already sent you that flirtatious note, earlier in October.  So I had my barely 18 year old eye on you: the tall, skinny, long haired, bearded professor with the beautiful eyes and smile.

I don't remember if we flirted over the great oak table. Probably, because  I pretty much flirted with everybody in those days.  Hell, I would have fucked a snake I was so horny all the time.  At the end of the meal my cousin brought out a couple of doobies that were passed around the table, sans bogarting.  Then around 1:00 am you decided to walk the three blocks to your apartment.  I decided to go with you.  When we reached your door I insisted you kiss me and invite me inside. There I made sure one thing led to another.

I thought that night was just a roll in the hay.  That roll lasted 50 years, 66 days, and fifteen hours.  

But who's counting.

Me.

Love always,

Kake