Gosh, it feels good to be writing again at OD! When OD went away it was almost like a death in the family. I like the look of resurrection, blank pages and much missed friends.
Yesterday I visited a second hand furniture store. Daughter Sharon and I walked through row upon row of discarded items, every thing from Avon Christmas plates to radiators, cowboy hats and sets of dishes. Every thing in there was a piece of someones life. Much of it came from estate sales I think. The furniture looked like remnants of the time between my parents and and my early days in the sun when I was building a life, post WW2 finery and early 50’s success stories. In those days success was marked by mahogany dining room suites, massive headboards over regular beds and dressing tables, mirrored vanities for the ladies, each item quite unlike the oak and pine laminates used in furniture today.
I know those items because I lived with them as I was growing up. I knew the feel of a mahogany table because I spent plenty of time dusting one. I knew the fluted chair backs for the same reason. I knew the honor those dining room suites brought to homes, how they marked arrival at some imagined great goal to their owners. I lived that one, too. The dining room with its fancy furniture was used for Christmas dinners, sometimes on Easter and rarely, if we had company for dinner. But, nonetheless, we had a dining room suite.
As we walked through the store I wallowed in memories and borrowed a few more from the imaginary ladies who had owned the furniture previously. We brought home six chairs. Every time I touch them I can see another lady gently dusting her prized possession, another mother from days gone by. I will treat them lovingly in honor of all she and the women of her time represented.