Formica For Me

One thing people never compliment us on when visiting our house are the countertops in our kitchen.

They are not trendy, they are not cool (except in winter), they are not fashionable, and they are not expensive. What they are is Formica, or some such laminated product.

The beauty of them – to me – is I don’t have to seal the surface, or buy something special to clean them, or worry about spilling something on them. Oops, I dripped a bit of battery acid on them; I’ll just grab a paper towel and wipe that right up, maybe spray a little Windex on there.

Rarely complimented

While no one admires the beauty of our countertops – okay, probably for good reason – I have been asked why I don’t rip them out and put in some granite ones. The answer is, well, I have better things to spend ridiculous amounts of money on. Also, because they are functional and sometimes function champions form. I don’t need to see some artistically stunning stuff while I’m in the kitchen busy, you know, cooking; if I want to see great art I can go in the living room and look at F’s quilts on the walls in there.

Besides, why would I want a countertop that you could find in the Flintstones’ house? Sure, nothing screams ‘50s and ’60s style more than Formica, but granite is downright Stone Age.

Obviously the stone and rock industry has some pretty good marketing people, but I trace the rise in popularity of granite countertops to the proliferation of all those TV shows about houses: how to renovate them, how to buy and sell them, how to redesign them, and how to keep up with the latest fad like painting everything in a room a nice monochromatic white so that it looks like you’re living in an igloo.

But I’m kind of tired of watching people consider buying a house and react in abject horror to find no granite in sight; they’re like “Oh my goodness, I can do with the toilets that don’t flush and the holes in the roof and – gulp! – no hardwood floors, but no massive slab of stone in the kitchen is just too much to take!”

And like other fads and trends, you have to ask yourself what’s next. Crystal countertops? Hardened beeswax? Or how about some nice petrified wood?

Having said this, I’m not completely indisposed toward granite countertops; I’ve seen many that were absolutely gorgeous. If I were to buy a house that had them I certainly wouldn’t rip them out and replace them with Formica.

Unless, of course, retro is back yet again and that’s the new style.

A Fun Time Was Had By All

I learned to have fun from my parents, who worked hard but never passed up an opportunity to have a good time.

My father was a naval officer and we traveled around a lot when I was a kid. We endured many long trips in the car – me, the youngest, relegated to the middle seat in the back with unrepentant siblings poking me in the ribs from both sides – but my parents always made the trips like a holiday, visiting scenic sights and touristy places along the way, and making sure we always stopped at a motel with a pool. 

Even though my dad was often gone, flying off to exotic ports of call, he always made sure to bring us presents when he returned home and to spend as much time as he could with us. He even found time for us to have fun while he was working, such as taking us to watch the famed Blue Angels – and then afterwards letting us meet the pilots. One of his duties at a naval base was as a sort of welcome officer; he used to take my brother and me along to officially greet the ships coming into port. The ship’s captain would get some lucky sailor to take us kids on a tour of the destroyer or submarine or aircraft carrier while he met with my father. Invariably my dad knew at least one of the ship’s officers from the Naval Academy and would invite them all out to the house that night for drinks and dinner. But then he was always inviting people over for drinks and dinner, much to the head cook’s chagrin.

Before he had kids, he flew around the Caribbean visiting any number of islands – always picking up some of the local rum – when he wasn’t deliberately flying into storms as a hurricane hunter. I’m sure my poor mom didn’t have much fun when she had three children in diapers and a husband off flying for days or weeks at a time, but when we got older – she raised us well, as one of us was a perfectly behaved child while the other two were mostly behaved – she got to enjoy being an officer’s wife.

My dad in his Navy heyday.

I remember many nights my parents would go off to some official function or party or whatever social soiree the Navy required of its officers, or simply partying at the officers’ club, mom dressing up with perfume and pearls ready for a night out without kids.

My mom ready to party (my dad drove the scooter with her sitting behind him)

They were a happy couple and good parents and we never lacked for love in our house, even if it was a different house every couple of years. Looking back, I was always happy when they were happy, and they were great role models in how to live life.

After my dad retired from his second career as a university librarian, finally well settled in one last house, my parents spent their golden years doing what they loved best: having fun. They would travel, spend time with their family, and simply enjoy each other’s company. My dad never met a stranger, and never gave up his penchant for inviting people over for impromptu parties. He loved sitting on his porch with a glass of rum, telling me or anyone else who would listen some old Navy story that I had heard at least 40 times.

My dad on his porch

My father died last week, a couple of weeks shy of his 99th birthday. Somehow he outlived my mom by 13 years, and was quite happy living by himself in his later years, taking his regular swims in the intracoastal waterway and listening to big band music and living life his way.  

Maybe sadness will come later, but right now I am happy for him. Because I know he and mom are off somewhere now having a good time together, still finding fun.