The Rural Voice, 2002-05, Page 42UNCOVERING THE PAST
Stripping away the years of dirt and paint becomes an excercise in
remembering family history
By Barbara Weiler
ast summer I refinished
an old washstand. It sat
in the garage, where 1
applied stripper, scraped and
sanded. Some urists might
P g say
that to remove old finishes
takes away from uniqueness,
the historical value, the beauty
of the piece. There was nothing
beautiful about this washstand.
When I began, it was
covered with a dark, shiny
varnish unevenly applied.
Under that I discovered
multiple layers of white and
finally a faux finish of wood -
grain oak. The drawer pulls
were plain wooden knobs but I
uncovered additional holes
where a fancier pull used to be.
Visible nails marred the top.
and the boards had shrunk
apart to leave wide cracks. The
faux finish was gone from the
top, either never there or worn
away with the dark water stains
that spoiled the surface. A
chipboard slat reinforced the back,
while the bottom had been replaced
by plywood.
Even the history of the washstand
is murky. In the late 1930s, it had
already been relegated to•the back
kitchen of our farmhouse. The
original purpose of the stand was to
provide washroom facilities in a
bedroom. The pitcher and basin sat
on top, while the door underneath
housed the chamber pot. A small
drawer provided room for other
toiletries.
I do not know how old the
washstand is or where it came from.
Dad said he may have bought it at a
sale. My brother thinks it was left by
the previous owner of the farm near
Woodville where we moved in 1939,
because at one time there was a map
for the tile drainage system for the
farm on the bottom of the drawer.
The map has since been obliterated
by paint.
38 THE RURAL VOICE
In my memory, the stand was
covered with oilcloth, and stood
beside the sink in the corner of the
back kitchen. In the '40s, before
running water was installed in the
house, there was a hand pump which
brought rain water from the basement
cistern to be used for washing when
we came from field or barn. The
washstand held the pail and dipper
for drinking and cooking water,
carried from the well a little distance
from the house. That explains the
badly water -damaged surface.
The inside held miscellaneous
items, nuts and bolts, nails, qtc. The
pull on the cupboard part must have
given way, as a peculiar metal device
was used in place of a standard knob
and to that a star-shaped dog -tag,
now missing, was added for easier
opening. My father was ever a
pragmatist, concerned with function
rather than aesthetics.
When the farm was sold, many
worthier pieces of furniture
went to the auction barn. In
the '60s, none of us were
aware that some of the
things Dad bought at
auctions for use in summer
kitchen or cellar storage
might have any real worth,
beauty, or historical value.
We had chrome kitchen sets
and formica topped coffee
tables. But for some reason
Dad chose to keep the old
washstand, and it was
perhaps then that the
plywood bottom and
chipboard patching were
added. It took up its place in
the laundry room of the new
bungalow in town where my
parents retired, still a
repository for Dad's tools. It
moved again to the three
apartments my father lived
in after mother died and
ended up in the last
apartment in his bedroom,
serving once again as a bedside table.
We shook our heads and wondered
why he wanted that old thing.
Somehow I think the washstand is
oddly like my father. When he moved
into his new apartment, he found it
uncomfortable at first with its white
walls and new flooring. He did not
feel at home, as he put it, "an old
farmer in all this white". Maybe the
old washstand made the place seem
more homelike, less strange. Or
perhaps it was just a place to put the
radio beside his bed.
Dad was 94 years old when he
died, and I think the washstand is at
least that. If I searched for it in a
book about antiques, I would find
some reference to inexpensive
furniture commonly manufactured in
Ontario in the late nineteenth century.
I applied a warm golden oak stain
and added a clear finish, hoping to
make it respectable enough to grace
my guest room. Maybe I'II find a