One Hundred Things My Mother Taught Me A Million Times – Chapter 54

#54 – “Put a soft cloth on the arms of your chairs.  It will keep them from getting so worn.”

 This saying brings to mind doilies, ruffles, faded upholstery and chipped furniture.  Because of my mom’s sense of decorating, our family home took on the style of shabby chic when shabby chic wasn’t so cool (Mom would roll over in her grave if she heard me say this!).  You’d have thought that doilies were a status symbol as we had them on practically every surface.  But with mom, I actually think it was about preserving the integrity of the furniture.  In fact she seemed to measure our wealth in furniture.  I wish I had $100 (accounting for inflation) for every time she said, “Those coffee tables are mahogany!  Just feel how heavy they are!”  Then she would always add, “They came from the furniture store in San Angelo!”  Our furniture was pedigreed.

Mom bought furniture to last a lifetime and, sure enough, some of her furniture is still with us.  It’s been divvied out amongst the five of us kids like treasures.  I always wanted mom’s desk, but I ended up with the “girls” bedroom furniture that bedded and clothed four sisters spread over some 60 years.  This furniture now resides in my guest bedroom.  My son Colt has already staked a claim on it “someday.” I was so pleased when he said he wanted it.

Some things should just never go away, like the very distinct fragrance of my childhood home.  It’s a fragrance that lingers like a spirit in that old bedroom suit.  Not always, but often, when I first walk in the door of our house, I get just a fleeting whiff of our old home and am transported back to my childhood.  It is as if the memories have a fragrance that seeps into the wood and, alas, also into the mattress and box springs.  Yes, I know they both need to be replaced and I know it sounds silly, but some of all of us live in that old mattress.  Perhaps I’ll request that mattress be the kindling on my funeral pyre. Click on Read More Below...

 So, on a lighter note, it drove me absolutely crazy when mom switched from doilies to washcloths on the chair arms.  Washcloths!  There was no mistaking them for chair-arm   protectors (at least they were usually color-coordinated).  I remember running around pulling all of the washcloths off the chairs and stuffing them into a closet before a date arrived.  However, the arms of our chairs were pristine!

The leather arms of “my” favorite living room chair have just slightly visible ballpoint pen drawings, courtesy of my little grandchildren.  I smile every time I see them, because I think of my grandchildren and how their little squiggles are there always for me.  And I smile because they always make me remember mom’s #54.