The FHE Cupboard

Margaret's posting about the game closet prompted my memories about another storage space with a unique purpose. At our first house in Cleveland--the green house on Corydon Road--there was a window seat built over the radiator in the eating area off the kitchen. On either end of it there was a small cupboard. One of those cupboards was the "family night" cupboard, where Mom kept materials for lessons. I have two memories connected to that cupboard. For at least a year during the time we lived at that house we had spiral bound family night journals, in which we wrote or drew something each week--depending on our age and ability--in response to the family night lesson. I remember that my notebook was yellow and that I must have been in 1st or 2nd grade ( we moved from that house when I was in 3rd grade). In one of our lessons we apparently talked about the Holy Ghost, and took time at the end of the lesson to record something in our journals. I don't know whether we were invited to share what we had written, or if an older sibling was curiously looking over the shoulder of a younger one, but I remember the older kids laughing, and then Dad joining in, while Mom tried to keep her composure when they all looked at one of the younger kids' entry. Jon, David or I had shown our very literal comprehension of the lesson with a carefully drawn blob covered with spots--the "holey" ghost. Maybe Dad or Mom can remember who the artist was.

The other memory I have of that cupboard involves one of my naughty moments. Usually our breakfasts were structured and supervised, but one winter Saturday morning Mom and Dad were absent from the kitchen when a couple of us kids were eating breakfast. I had poured myself a bowl of my favorite Cheerios and was about to dig in when Brad or Doug brought out a pitcher of fruit juice from the fridge. They said something like " I wonder how this would taste on cereal". I loved juice and loved Cheerios, but had never thought about eating them together. Without Mom or Dad to intervene I became bold and poured the juice into my bowl, delighted at how the juice swirled into the milk. My delight turned into dismay when I tasted my cereal and discovered why juice and milk are not sold in a mixed product. It was awful. I was on my way to pour my disaster into the sink when I heard Dad coming up the stairs from the basement. I wouldn't be able to reach the sink before he got to the top of the stairs, which ended just past the sink. I quickly retreated to the breakfast table, anxiously looking for a way to hide my mistake. The family night cupboard! I hastily put the bowl in the cupboard and looked innocently around to see if anyone had noticed. I was able to get a new bowl of cereal and eat my breakfast without being discovered. I intended to retrieve my mistake out of the cupboard when everyone had cleared the room, but got distracted by something else and forgot. The radiator kept on working on heating the kitchen--and the bowl of Cheerios-- for the rest of the day and the next. On Monday night when Mom went to the cupboard for the journals at the end of her lesson, the sour smelling bowl was found, my naughtiness was revealed, and a second impromptu family night lesson was taught for my behalf.