What reminds you of blessings and brings us in prayer together? You might answer “Sunday.” You’re correct. I’ll add a table and that’s the altar of sacrifice. A table can be a statement of sorts. A table where a candle is placed in the middle can be quite romantic. Once two candles are placed at each side, it becomes an altar. Also, in military affairs, there’s always a small, lone table that’s left unoccupied. It honors the sacrifice of the soldiers who died fighting for their country. But we generally make merry around a table, whether made of wood, glass or capiz.
They’re seldom appreciated for the cultural value of those who sit by them. For instance, a round table makes all men equal. There is no “head” at that table, in contrast to a rectangular one where there is a top man, perhaps the father, and on the other end, his wife. King Arthur’s round table symbolized equality with his co-knights even if legend emphasizes it was King Arthur’s call.
“Table” is from the Latin word tabula meaning planks and flat top pieces of different materials. And according to taste, they can be made of bamboo, narra, stone, wrought iron and glass, gold leaf, lacquered or varnished. Height, weight, shape, and purposes will vary as long as they’re functional. Tables from ancient Rome were low enough to be put beside low couches. While more recent types are made higher to accommodate bar stools. And just a wee bit above a meter from the floor are brass tables called dulang where five Moros gather around it for a meal of beef randang, pisasati, palapa and piyaparan a manok.
So much goings-on around us, and we fail to give honor to nature that’s become part of our lives. We lay down our handbags irrelevantly on this tabula, which we should not do when you consider the bags’ dirty bottoms on tables where we eat. How nice to see tables all dressed up with shiny silver, skilfully laid-out spoons, forks and knives — wedding presents from 25 years ago that’s triple the cost today. Daily, you may wake up and reach for your eyeglasses, a malfunctioning obnoxious alarm clock that didn’t wake us up on time. Where? By our side table, circa Georgian era, 1714; that’s when they were popularized.
In the ‘70s a horrid typhoon attacked Tarlac and grand trees tumbled down, weakened in their roots from age. All were acacia! Let’s make them into tables, we chanted. We preserved its beautiful grain, brown and black, and turned its trunks into two perfectly round tables for six. One has been the centerpiece in our den for years, recalling typhoon Juaning. What ugly legs it still has: just one in the center as though it’s stricken with elephantiasis.
If tables could talk, what would yours say? Mine would tell you stories that changed the fortunes of people and the direction of our country. While I was asleep, my table was witness to Cory’s ascendency to the presidency. The RAM with Gen. Jose Almonte planned a government takeover from Marcos with Col. Greg Honasan, Col. Red Kapunan and Col. Rey Batac. Honasan and Kapunan were Minister Johnny Ponce Enrile’s protégés while Almonte and Batac were affiliated with then Gen. Fidel Ramos. To succeed in the revolution they needed the civilian populace. Without the people’s support, they would not “move.” A truce was reached.
Fully convinced of their sincerity around Peping’s table, where, in the middle of it, is a sliver tray, a trophy earned by Peping’s horse “Honorable Joe” in Sydney, Australia, Peping arranged a meeting for them with Cory. Between 2 and 3 a.m., after a rally in Metro Manila, Cory spoke with them at her Times Street residence. She told them she would support any plans they would agree on with Peping. On their way out Cory told Almonte, “If we succeed, you will be the first general I will promote.” When she became president, Almonte was the first officer promoted to general.
Billy Esposo broke my antique enormous bishop‘s chair as the legs buckled under his weight during a conference at that table. Former Assemblyman of Sulu Gagir Ismael kept sliding downward from a reclining native Bohol chair until Peping said, “The antiques must go. Don’t put them by my table.”
One evening, a very bothered Chavit Singson, our compadre, came to our home. He knew the den all too well and sat at Peping’s round table. He narrated how he was flagged down by a colonel and his men who stated he was ordered to arrest Chavit. Gov. Singson remained pat inside his vehicle. Events indicated his possible demise. And the rest became history. Another night, in the veil of darkness again, President Gloria came by to discuss at that table food security with Peping. By that time I had commissioned Ogie Periquet to make me six normal chairs for Peping’s table, for the comfort of his guests!
Tables have waited with parents for their children to join them for a meal. At tables we tease and pick on each other and argue. There are houses that are too small and for that reason clothes are folded and ironed on the table. Then scoot all those garments away when it’s time to prepare the food.
Tables symbolize life. We have memories of our tables and our family love for each member and our guests. An antique, Spanish three-mirror women’s vanity table with creams, rouges and powder and necklaces hanging from its curved wood, a handkerchief from the night before that you dropped, and a handsome man picked it up for you. That curved dresser was my mother’s.
I remember the spice trade of the Dutch and English, particularly tea and coffee from Indonesia to England and Holland via the Indian Ocean and China Silk Trade Routes. Caffeine lovers of the 18th century produced small tables to leisurely enjoy both, while discussing conquests and eastern women. While our heroes were around their own tables discussing the Philippine revolution in Sampaloc, Manila and Trese Martires, Cavite.