The Soul of the House
7/22
The Stove
In the years following WWII, while the Industrial Revolution was still in its explorative and relatively youthful years of idealistic expansion, the view of ‘style’ over ‘substance’ or 'functionality' was simply a moot point. The essence of the machine itself WAS the style and its presentation reflected that of the functionality; how it ‘fit’ into its place of productivity was considered only secondary to the ultimate effect.
Within this optimistic period of prolific creation to the modern home, our wondrous and elegant Garland Stove was born.
She was built to last. Outlast you and me. She was jacked with 6 top gas burners, two full length ovens, an elevated and enclosed broiler generated by 3 heat adjustable burn pipes which would then warm the 24 x 30” cast iron griddle placed above it to flip at least a dozen flapjacks and any number of beef or pork related breakfast staples. Jet black with a silver steel faceplate, she even sounded like an industrial motorcycle factory when we opened and closed her doors.
She was the empire to any kitchen dwelling servant. To serve from her was to serve the masses and to serve them well.
In the year 1974, the baby boomers were moving out of the cities and into the suburbs. Our family was one of them and we found our home nestled in the rustic outer fringes of northern Westchester County, NY. It was there where the Garland Stove greeted us. Countless others that entered there before us were fed and nourished by the hands of those that lived there. Brought unto its residence by a German woman named Berel Martin who adored to entertain her neighbors before the Squires’ arrival.
What became our Garland Stove became our provider. She helped the family grow into strong and able bodied humans to go out into the world full of healthy food made with love to help us become soccer players, students, cross country runners, businessmen and indeed, parents ourselves.
She was there with us every day of our lives in some way or another.
Our family is a nostalgic and home bodied tribe. The ‘things’ we have have been owned in our family for generations and we take care of those objects with pride for we are proud of our lives. They are but footnotes in the novels of the daily pages we write as we live. So, in 1996 when it was time to retire into the next phase of our lives and continue the tradition of entertaining, feeding and providing for the masses- this time as successful managers of the top rated in Vermont, Squire House Bed & Breakfast, ( that is..until Tripadvisor changed its algorhythms) it seemed only natural to take our trusted Garland Stove with us. “It’s the soul of the house!” I cried. It lived with us in our new home for another 21 years.
In this new age of style-less, conveyer belt, Amazon and Ikea, ‘assemble -it -yourself, DORK!’ - mass produced, assembly line mayhem to influence more boredom than bravery existence, comes with it an over insured, over protected, paranoid, malignant, invisible authority that is faceless and fickle, corporate and unexposed. Hidden behind the closed doors of trustees and bureaucrats, politicians and bankers. Damn their pasty, pink faced reflections from their over-Pledged polished, oak wood, boardroom table! And, the occupants from within these boardrooms excrete and regurgitate the laws, rules, regulations and codes by which the rest of society must abide. Slaves to fall into line by an invisible whip. None of us are immune. They’ll do anything to protect THEMSELVES from having to payout any money to ANYONE that is entitled to it ANYWAY.
So. On this day, because of these endless streams of belched out bureaucratic, boneheaded rogues of regulation, we had to bid farewell to our beloved Garland Stove. Apparently, a commercial stove is no longer legal to operate in a residential household. This regulation is -in part -drafted on behalf of...who else?...the fuel company that sells us the oil to heat our furnace in the basement.
There was no service. No trumpets blown or hung wreaths, no 21 gun salute. I chose a Yoga class instead of baring witness to this surgical removal. She left intact and proud. Mom spent all day Sunday and Monday crying and cleaning this stove and Garland will find a new home in a start up business; baking pies and continuing her duty for which she was destined to be famous for.
Garland will always be in my heart. She will always be the cement that built the foundation of my family’s health. And it is from her that I have come to enjoy the work of providing food for others, to entertain and delight around the most enjoyable of senses life has to offer in smell and in taste.
To cook is to love AND LOVE is to
conquer all. - or I could live in California where some have no homes left at all.
Namaste.