An Heirloom

My bro and me.  Circa 1981

The older I get, the more sentimental I get.  Or, I don't know if that really is the right word.  I guess the older I get, the more I want the things around me to have meaning.  My wedding ring is my great-great grandmother's ring, and I love looking at it, knowing the generations of hands it has been on and the years it has seen.  My baby blanket, yellow with little bunnies, is old and ripped in one spot, but it's now Leland's favorite blanket.  And each night as I tuck him into his little crib with it, I'm ever so softly reminded that time passes, and we all grow up.

That's where this chair comes in, an heirloom if you will.  It was originally my uncle Mark's chair, whom I never had the chance to meet.  He died in a hunting accident, before I was born, at the age of 21.  So this chair, is one of the only things that he had bought and loved in his short adult life.  And it was unique and cool, and my mom had it recovered in a muted rose velvet, to remind her of him and his love of flowers.  It's been around all my life.  For a while, it was in my grandparent's basement.  I remember curling up into it, like a fox in its den.  It was my favorite chair, simply because sitting in it when I was that little felt like a giant hug.  And then for many years it was put in storage.  Always with the idea that someday...someday...it would be recovered.  My mom later pulled it out of storage, and there it sat in the corner of her room, covered with a big Moroccan scarf.  I think the idea was if it were in plain sight, it would surely someday get recovered.

Meanwhile, there's little old me.  Searching the Internets for a chair.  Looking and dreaming about a big cozy chair for our front room.  I was looking at new ones, and then after seeing the prices, I was looking at old ones.  But, all the while, wanting a special and unique chair that I'd keep forever.  And that's where my mom did what she so easily does:  she stepped in, and offered to me what she so dearly loved.

The chair.

That was one year ago.  Of course, I excitedly accepted the chair, but it sat in that corner of her bedroom for a little while longer.  I had to think of what I'd recover it with.  Having floral velvet for thirty years, and having it be so tragically tragic when at one time, it was totally "in" gave me reason to think.  My top choice was leather.  Like a cognac colored leather.  But, the big chair required two hides, and that made it way out of budget ($$$$).   Next, I thought about a deep navy velvet.  I do love blues.  But, grubby little hands had me feeling that it might always look dirty and need to be wiped down.  In the end, I went with a charcoal tweed, with brown, blue, and green undertones.

With the fabric dilemma solved, now it was time to strip and re-stain the wood detail and legs.  I started that in November, working on it when I had time, and finished in December.  But, still the chair sat.  The person who would be recovering it was a bit behind schedule.  January, we dropped it off to be recovered, but I was warned:  he is good, but he is old, and he is slow.  So, I jokingly gave the deadline of my next birthday.  I've learned to be reasonably patient with this type of stuff, so I just waited.

And guess what?  My birthday is next week.  Deadline met!  The chair has all new springs, all new padding, and of course, all new fabric.  Yet, still the small dents here and there in the wood detail that give a nod to it's age, and it's story.