One of my favorite stories about my mom was when we lived in an old house in Union City, Ohio. As do many old homes that pre-date indoor plumbing, this place had a kitchen that was added on in the back. It was a glorified porch-like affair with uneven floors. One early morning, we had assembled for a breakfast with a half dozen folks. Mom called us all to breakfast and we all sat down in our spots, but as we scooted our chairs in, we all had the same problem.
Looking first to the left and then to the right, we all realized one another's plight at nearly the same moment. We were confused because none of us could get our legs under the table. My friend Rob asked, "Does the table seem low to you?" We all noticed that mom was at the sink, washing up the few dishes that had been made already this fine morning. Mom shuddered lightly, and I for one had a hard time figuring out if it was from crying or laughing. Turns out it was both!
The uneven floor made it hard to keep the table from tipping slightly back and forth on the "long" legs, acting like a teeter totter, depending on where you put the dishes and the occasional rested arm.
The previous Christmas we had given Mom a saber saw, which she always kept close at hand. Rather than trying to shim up the short leg with a matchbook or other similar device, she would mark the long leg, flip over the kitchen table, and cut that sucker off. After countless floor sweepings and moppings, and never getting the table back to precisely the same place, this process had been repeated enough times as to shorten all the legs enough to make it impossible to sit at any more.
It was hard for mom to explain it to us between her sobs and laughter.
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