The Silent Butler is nothing more than a conversation opener; I have other thoughts in my head as I look back at familial chaos of the Koerner kind.
The Silent Butler is something I cannot get rid of. It matches the aluminum trays we have from the fifties. We got one from my mom and one from Mary Kay’s mom and have purchased a few others as we find them to be very practical and clearly, very light.
I have not yet figured out a real practical use for it. As a kid, this was to be found in the Recreation Room of our fifties house, a linoleum tiled, sometimes cold room that until the end of the previous millennium, was pretty dry. Before we sold that house, I had repainted its walls with hydraulic paint to seal it completely.
I used to take marbles and roll them around in it as well as on the nearby Duncan Phyfe oval coffee table with a rim and a piece of glass. Suffice it to say, I am just a weird character.
Now, on to the chaos, since that was a major part of the day. We had three grandkids and were at the end of a two day snow accumulation. That meant that the phone was ringing all the time for MK in her role as spokesperson and conduit for our son’s snow removal business. I shoveled our driveway and our son plowed in the morning, left the control of it to our chef-real estate-jack of all trades, younger son, and went with his mother-in-law to have one of the plates surgically removed from his badly broken wrist (from a year ago). That contributed to an extremely crazy day, one in which we were on pins and needles from one of our own going under the knife and in which we needed to take care of dinner and get him and the kids home and his kids to bed after his delivery to our house.
We survived. I even managed to help out our friend, Randy Casey, with his choral work in which his charges were singing in French. We Skyped. How I pulled this off with a granddaughter in my lap is beyond my comprehension!