The joys of t.v. trays
I’m not sure why I ever stopped having them in my life. They were so handy. They didn’t take up much room, there was always a logical spot to slide the rack that held them somewhere in a slim little spot.
For the longest time, the set I had was acquired by cashing in Air Miles reward miles I am quite certain. Many families had them. They wiped off easily, they could be used by one person or a few, they served as an impromptu surface for any number of activities.
Good old t.v. trays.
I am fairly certain that everyone reading this can read ‘t.v. trays’ and imagine an iconic set in a household they knew. Perhaps with a brass stand with a faux-wood handle, or those light-coloured wood ones that I mentioned above being an Air Miles thing, or floral ones, slightly daintier shaped tops…there were so many.
According to a few basic virtual searches, the consensus seems that t.v. trays arrived on the scene prior to Swanson’s t.v. dinners (October of 1953), and while this may be seen by some as the beginning of people eating separately, let’s face it, a lot of families are capable of eating separately at the same table.
Our Gran and Bampie Quinn’s t.v. trays were given as a group gift to them if memory serves me correctly – a plan by my parents and aunts and uncles to give them something that they would actually use and not just admire and put away, keeping these still packaged items ‘for good’.
They did sure did use them! These were family timepieces that were still around after Bamps died and Gran moved to the Wales Home – four of them as was the typical set, topped the same wooded scene, but the four seasons, one on each. I wanted the Autumn one every time, my favourite season due to the dark and Hallowe’en, the spookiness and my birthday.
We watched hockey, the news, ate breakfast off of them, Cream of Wheat, grapefruit halves with sugar on top, the segments divided with a special knife and scooped out with spoons with a serrated tip, followed by dippy eggs (soldiers too, but often the toast was cut into tiny squares, not the full rectangle of soldiers), bacon – typically a pound fried up and shared, crispy and good with the egg and toast together in a neat stack speared and smeared onto a fork. Salada tea with milk. A teapot with a tea cozy. An old, red plaid, slightly stained tea cozy that smelled like heaven, like the orange tea box itself.
Those trays occasionally got a jolt when something impressive or discouraging happened during a hockey game and knees lifted involuntarily in response.
When imagining the living room, it is easy to imagine most of the free space filled with a maze of t.v. trays. And the seasons waxed and waned.
Recently I spotted an impeccable set of vintage t.v. trays, likely from the 70s, although late 60s is indeed possible as well, for sale on Facebook Marketplace. Mint condition, although they had been used, just looked after. Olive and jade green swirled tops with a gold painted rectangle like a place mat of sorts, often seen on those tops. When I picked them up, the seller was so pleased that I was happy to have them – they had belonged to his great-aunt, now 95 years of age, who no longer used them.
There is something very personal about having that small, individual surface to eat at, to organize cutlery, a drink, a plate, a napkin, eating separately alone, often watching the same thing.
It’s like the dinner version of the drive-in, clustered and parked, negotiating space and being able to view a common screen.
The new-to-me t.v. trays slid behind the couch so easily, it really was their place. Sliding them out and over the couch setting them up and serving meals or snacks on them is familiar and comforting. There are some items that will always remind us of certain things. Of dining together, of being alone, of a sick day on the couch with hot soup cooling down on the tray, of the shows we watched, a bit of active vintage.