My grandparents bought this table when they got married in 1934 and it’s been passed down to the oldest daughter for two generations. I used to do my homework at this table and you can still see where I pressed too hard with my pencil and etched my name in the top. This is also where I had to sit alone (crying) because I wasn’t allowed to leave the table until I finished eating my liver, which I told mother tasted like dirt. The leg broke off when we moved, but Lily’s boyfriend made an amazing repair and now it’s good to go for the next 88 years.
What a treasure! So glad he could fix it. For me the sit-at-the-table-until-I ate-it food was beets (which DO actually taste like dirt). We never had liver, thank goodness.
@eudora@margonaut Liver night was so traumatic that she only made it once. It really is so disgusting. Margaret, you are VERY lucky you never had to endure it!
