The Wooden Tray ~ by Andrew Bleke, Atlanta, Georgia

The wooden tray sat on top of the white Sears refrigerator for as long as I could remember.

Each day, my Dad would come home from work. I could hear the backdoor open. He would walk to the refrigerator and drop his keys into the tray. It was easy for him to do because he was taller than the refrigerator. He would then kiss my Mom, who had been working on dinner. After making a drink, Dad would stop again at the tray before heading to his chair in the den. There were items that my Mom had placed in the tray. They were the items of the day…..letters from relatives in Indiana or Massachusetts, recently developed photographs from a family outing, school report cards, an obituary or perhaps a quote for some home repair. The tray was a snapshot of current events for our household.

We moved into the house in the winter of 1963. I was 4 years old and could only see the edge of the tray when I looked up at the refrigerator. I could only get access to the tray by climbing onto the kitchen counter and then peering down into the tray. This would take place when my parents weren’t nearby. I found that there were other items that I was unaware of……coins, matchbooks, old sticks of cinnamon gum, a house key and an occasional pack of Salem cigarettes. As I grew older and taller, the wooden tray held less interest for me.

About three years ago, my brother, Eric, and I were helping my parents move from their house to an apartment in Asheville, NC. They had downsized on two other occasions in the past twenty years or so. Now, my parents were 80 years old. We were sorting through things making decisions about this or that. Dad picked up the wooden tray. I hadn’t seen it in years. He said it was unusual, in that it had been cut from a single piece of wood. He went on to say that it belonged to my maternal grandfather, who was a carpenter. The tray was in his home in Milton, MA. Dad said “This tray use to sit….” And I stopped him. I said” I know where that tray was’. He said “please take it home with you” and I did.

Note from Allison and Marcia:  Objects often hold memories for us just like Andrew's dad's wooden tray.  Take the time to find an object that holds a memory for you.