Every generation probably has its kitchen stories. My story
is one of disaster. My kitchen has no cabinets. The floor is in disrepair and
the ceiling looks up to the floor above. Someday perhaps I may get a new kitchen.
My mother’s kitchen was large, but it was not always so. The
previous owners had made changes. The original kitchen was L shaped with the
furnace and washing machine in the L. They added a utility room and moved the
furnace and laundry to the utility room. They then opened the center of the L to
make a square room but then put a wall to divide the room into two rectangular
rooms. The rooms were narrow and if people sat on both sides of the table they
were wall to wall. My mom hated it and asked dad to get rid of the wall. Dad
kept putting it off. One day when dad was on the 4-12 shift, Mom and I knocked
the wall out except for some 2x4s. I was only about 8 or 9 years old. When dad
came home was he surprised.
When my mom was little her family would go to the Colby farm
and camp out. She made it sound like they were going to a summer camp, but I
suspect that my grandfather was really helping on the farm and my grandmother
was working in the kitchen tent. I have a picture of her sitting in front of
the tent.
