Memoir of a Handmade Chair

It was sometime in the early days of the 1950s, an older gentleman named Clyde was busy working with his tools.  What was he working on?  Why, me of course.  You see, Clyde liked to work with wood.  He measured, he cut and he planed every single part of me.  I was a special project that he was working on.  I was to become a chair for his nephew.

The nephew, Earl, put me to good use right away.  I became his office chair at home.  On occasion, Earl would use me at the dining room table.  I don’t remember who, but someone made some nice cushions for me, and not just a seat cushion.  I had one for the back, and one for each arm rest.  I was looking good and feeling great!  He was a great owner.  He took really good care of me, for over 20 years.

I can still recall when his family would get together for the holidays.  One of the grandkids liked to play near me.  Sometimes, the little squirt would untie my cushions.  He would rotate the stiles on my back too.  He wasn’t being rough or mean about it.  I think he just like to figure out how I was put together.  I had a feeling that he would become a future woodworker.

During the latter part of 1980, I lost my dear friend.  His wife kept me around and kept me busy.  She took care of me for a few years.  One of the boys acquired me after that.  My days of being cared for and respected came to an abrupt halt.

For about the next ten years, I was knocked around, stepped on, mishandled and had paint dripped all over me.  The upper part of one of my back legs was split badly and was held together with black tape.  I no longer had a shine and felt completely disheveled.  Then one day, I overheard my owner telling a younger man that he was just going to throw me on the burn pile.  I’m not sure what a burn pile is, but the younger man seemed to be rather upset.  He told my owner that he would take me.  So, here I was, being given away to some stranger…or so I thought.

I arrived at my new home and he proceeded to take off the black tape.  Next, he looked me over for other cracks and damage.  He put his hand on me and said, “Don’t worry.  I will fix you up.”  There was something about his eyes and smile that seemed familiar.  Finally, I realized that this young man was the same little boy who used to untie my cushions.  Over time, my young friend cleaned me up.  He scraped of the paint drippings.  He sanded me down and glued my leg.  Every little nick, scratch and dent got repaired.  He gave me a new color (I think he called it a stain).  It smelled like a stain, but I was looking pretty dapper.  He then covered me with a shiny coating.  I went from dapper to slick.  My young friend even made me some new cushions.  I felt complete again, just like those many years ago.

My owner put me to very good use.  He took very good care of me, for a while.  I haven’t seen my friend in a few years.  I hope he comes to get me sometime soon.  I could use him and I’m sure he could use me.

Memoir of a 19th Century Victorian

It was in the early spring, nearly two years ago, that I met this grisly looking little man.  He spotted me sitting there as he began to walk by.  He paused and decided to look me over.  At first, I wasn’t sure what to think of him.  He looked as if he hadn’t shaven in weeks and smelled of Old Spice.  His hazel brown eyes showed a level of interest and concern.  I have not been looked at like this in many, many years.

I was created more than a century and a half ago.  I cannot recall the exact year or the location for that matter.  I have had more than a few owners over the course of my life.  I was first purchased by a couple, as a gift for the wife.  She took great care of me.  I was handed down through the family, a few times.  Each generation cared for me less than the previous.

Over time, I have lost two of my locks, two keyhole covers have been broken and so has my mirror.  All of my handles went missing too.  Everything has been such a blur that I cannot even recall the details.  Before meeting this man, my previous owner had me stored in a garage with many other forgotten items.  My complexion had faded, tarnished and, in some places, had worn off completely.  My top on one side had come off.  How does one’s top just come off?  Never the less, this man smiled at me gently and said “I’m going to take you home and fix you up.  I will find you a good home.”

As I was rolled out of the metal barn, my wheels were grinding harshly, leaving behind small patches of rust.  I was gently loaded into the back of a minivan.  When we arrived at the man’s house, I was unloaded and moved into another garage.  I began to think that I had been duped.  Later that afternoon, he came out of the house and began to look me over more thoroughly.  He proceeded to pull out some paper sheets, some shiny metal pieces and what looked like metal cloth.  Next, he grabbed a long, metal tube with a plastic handle.  He removed my two top drawers with such care, and then their casings.  My three big drawers followed suit.

From this point, I was gently scraped, sanded and buffed with various instruments.  My exterior appeared to be almost brand new.  I was surprised to find out that this was just the beginning of my transformation.  This kind, yet odd, man wiped down my entire carcass, from top to bottom, with linseed oil.  I was so dry that it just soaked into my pores.  After letting me absorb as much oil as I could, he wiped off the excess and let me relax for a couple of days.

As time passed, I was given a light reddish coating.  I think I heard the man say it was called merlot.  It did not feel like wine, to me, nor did it smell like it.  Next came a couple of layers of something he called semi-gloss.  I’m not sure what it was, but it brought out my inner beauty.  I felt reborn.

Apparently, the man’s wife became enamored with me.  I have found my new home caring for some of her items.  She is taking great care of me now.

 

New posts coming soon.

I’m sorry for the lack of posts lately. Been having some rough times lately with one of my cats. He has been in and out of the vets. Last week, he had to be put to sleep. So this is why I haven’t posted anything. I will be posting again later this week.

Upcoming posts will be a special made box for a friend of mine, a couple of designs on Christmas ornaments and making a base for an antique treadle scrollsaw. Keep checking in to see which is next.