Modern lift top coffee table - Stanley round dining table.

Modern Lift Top Coffee Table

modern lift top coffee table

    coffee table
  • A low table, typically placed in front of a sofa

  • (Coffee Tables) While any small and low table can be, and is, called a coffee table, the term is applied particularly to the sets of three or four tables made from about 1790; of which the latter were called 'quartetto tables'.

  • low table where magazines can be placed and coffee or cocktails are served

  • A coffee table, also called a cocktail table, is a style of long, low table which is designed to be placed in front of a sofa, to support beverages (hence the name), magazines, feet, books (especially coffee table books), and other small items to be used while sitting, such as coasters.

    lift top
  • A function which allows the top of a piece of Amish Furniture, such as a coffee table, to be raised. Lift-tops provide a way to store miscellaneous itmes such as coasters, DVDs, CD, remote controls and many other items.

  • belonging to the modern era; since the Middle Ages; "modern art"; "modern furniture"; "modern history"; "totem poles are modern rather than prehistoric"

  • a contemporary person

  • a typeface (based on an 18th century design by Gianbattista Bodoni) distinguished by regular shape and hairline serifs and heavy downstrokes

  • A person who advocates or practices a departure from traditional styles or values

Harry Wilson

Harry Wilson

Harry Wilson is a dear friend. We have had many adventures on the road. Here's one:

I have come to this cabin to sort my thoughts. Through the window I see huge white clouds tumbling over the buttes - the same weather as four nights ago, before the storm, before we lost Jimmy at the top of the hill. But that's getting ahead of myself.

Every year, spring or fall, sometimes both, Harry and I outfit Jimmy and head for the hills. Jimmy is a 1963 GMC one ton complete with a shack bolted to the frame. It's a home on wheels, with most of the comforts of a Winnebago, but that's where the similarity ends. Jimmy is powered by a straight block six banger that's never missed a beat; a big flywheel gives it the strength of an ox. The shack is as high, wide and long as the legal limit, constructed of two by fours and plywood, insulated, with tin sheeting over the roof. Hitched behind is the trike, part Triumph motorcycle and part VW beetle. We park the truck, call it home, and tour on the trike. The rig is an as-you-build-it, and Harry can repair most anything by the side of the road. He's changed brake lines, a muffler, and re-routed the wiring. A journey in Jimmy is like a poem to self-sufficiency.

This is the second time we've stayed in Dorothy. The first time was two years ago, and I've canoed past twice. This cabin once belonged to a homesteader named Arthur Peake, it's part of a small collection of historical artefacts gathered at the mouth of Circus Coulee. Dorothy lays below: four residences scattered about the town site; the blacksmith's shop and a grocery, windows boarded, porches rotted long ago; two churches, one United, the other Catholic, both derelict; an abandoned grain elevator; a large modern house and several ranch buildings about a half mile south, toward the river, home of Norm Pugh and his daughter, one-time queen of the Drumheller Rodeo.

Beside this cabin sits a community hall and a schoolhouse, joined by a common door and a hallway. Decorations still hang from the last time the buildings were used, for the Pugh family reunion. A sign over the entrance to the schoolhouse annex reads: Pughville Saloon. A quarter bottle of Lemon Hart rum sits on the bar - a murky, golden concoction full of dead flies. The piano still carries a tune.

Jimmy is parked in the community campsite, up against a hedge that runs the length of a two-acre parcel of land on the edge of town. Once owned by George T. Proudfoot, honorary mayor, the land was bequeathed to the town of Dorothy on condition it remain a campsite. Harry and I came to Dorothy to relax and play cribbage. Two friends, a deck of cards, and some stories. Even the coffee cup I drink from has a story. Harry picked it up in Georgia back when he was trucking. The nameplate from his old rig hangs by the door: Purple Hayes. (And, yes, the truck was made by the Hayes Company, and it was purple.) Harry is proud of those miles: "to the moon and back twice," he says; and then points out, "almost everything in this world once rode on a truck."

But his trucking days are over. Five years ago, he fell asleep at the wheel outside Carberry, Manitoba, hit the ditch and broke his back. It was an ignoble way to finish all those proud miles, and I tease him about it if he gets too far ahead in our card tournament. We laugh, but it's not funny.

The town site of Dorothy lays on bottom land in a bend of the Red Deer River, mostly badlands, sparse grasses and sage, as green now as they ever get. There's a bridge connecting the north-south road. There used to be a ferry. Norm Pugh tells how people would wait together on the bank and swap stories. Now there's only the sound of occasional traffic across the bridge. A stretch of the east-west road used to be the rail bed along which steam engines hauled loads of coal from the East Coulee mines; but all that remains of Dorothy are the relic buildings, small and weather-beaten; and the grain elevator, which can be seen from almost anywhere in the valley.

I first came through Dorothy many years ago, on a southern swing through the prairies with a friend. I barely remember the day, but I do remember noting the grain elevator. Years later, with the same friend and several members of my family, I canoed past Dorothy. We pulled to shore a few canyons downstream, at the mouth of Crawling Valley. My brother, David, erected his tent on top of a sandy knoll, and then sat by a small campfire watching the full moon lift over a near rise. It was only month since he'd tried to kill himself with whiskey and pills; but he seemed happy by his campfire under the moon, as if he'd finally shucked his demons. But he died soon after the canoe trip, hit by a car while crossing a street. So, two years ago, I came to Dorothy with Harry and canoed to that spot above the river to honour the memory of my brother.

Now there's an even deeper bond with this place, between Harry and I. Like brothers, we've returned. Strange how a place not

Lifting the Top

Lifting the Top

A little later, I jumped on one of these and it tipped over with my momentum. The top fell off and I thought I was going to get hurt, like when I fell giving a running piggyback.

modern lift top coffee table

See also:

solid oak lamp table

wood bar height table

black glass dining room table

console to card to dinner table

clear plastic dining table

contemporary table settings

light pub table

aluminum kitchen table

marble round dining table

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