I am a sentimental person. Probably to a large fault. That said, it is who I am, I recognize it, and try to deal with it. One of the challenges in being sentimental, however, is that I have a hard time letting go.
For example, while I was in college, my parents gave me the “Gold Chair”. This chair was a rocking chair that also swiveled. They had re-upholstered it in the 1970s, in a lovely fabric of “Harvest Gold”. You know, the kind of color that now makes you think, “What in the world was wrong with these people??????”. (not just my parents, by the way, but most adults in the 1970s – who thought “Harvest Gold” and “Avocado Green” were colors found in nature).
So, there I was, a college student, in my own apartment, with the following items of furniture:
- 1 Full size bed – purchased from my parent’s neighbors for $25, headboard and footboard, mattress, box springs and frame rail. What a bargain. I think the sheets may have even been included.
- 1 dresser – painted “Harvest Gold” by my mother when I was a young boy.
- 1 folding card table – Samsonite brand, used by my parents for Rummy or some other card game they played with friends before I was born.
- 2 oversized pillows – so visitors would have something to sit on in my living room.
- 1 black and white TV – given to me by a friend who couldn’t take looking at snowy pictures any longer.
And the Gold Chair.
What was important about the Gold Chair, is that when I was a little boy – no older than 5, because it was in the “old house”, which was where we lived prior to moving to where my parents live now – I used to sneak out of bed at night. Mom and dad would watch the “Tonight” show with Johnny Carson after the late news.
I would get out of bed, go sit behind the Gold Chair (which at the time was bronze – prior to the re-upholstering), peek out from behind it, and watch Carson. That is the significance of the Gold Chair.
Perhaps not so meaningful to you, but a critical piece of my childhood development. (Some might say it is why I am the way I am today, whatever that means).
A few years after receiving the Gold Chair from my parents to furnish my first apartment, I met a wonderful girl and we got married. I have heard for years that when two people marry, they bring certain “things” from the past with them. Into our marriage, I brought the Gold Chair.
We have never argued really. Occasionally we have a difference of opinion, but we mostly get along great. Regarding the Gold Chair, however, we had a difference of opinion.
I believed it to be a gift from my parents, with strong memories of watching Johnny Carson when I should have been in bed attached to it. Besides that, it was comfortable.
Jen believed it to be a hideous piece of squeaking furniture, the color and condition of which would be an embarrassment to any new wife trying to make a home.
I believed it belonged prominently displayed in our living room of unmatched furniture. She believed it belonged in the dump.
So we compromised. It ended up in the baby’s room. To this day, one of my favorite pictures is of my oldest daughter in the Gold Chair, mostly covered in stuffed animals. What a blessing that chair was.
We moved several times and finally the Gold Chair ended up in our bedroom, covered with unmatched socks. I don’t recall exactly how it came to be, perhaps I was just in a weak moment or worn down from years of being told how the Gold Chair needed to go, but I took it to the dump. To this day, I can’t drive by the Creek County dump without thinking of the Gold Chair and all of its glory.
All has been made better, though not necessarily well, by the fact that I now have the Grandma Murphy Chair and Grandma Murphy Couch prominently displayed in our living room. That’s another story for another time.
Ah, sentimentality.