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January 21, 2008
First Generation
While I like to think of Alexis and myself as adults, we certainly do not have what I would define as an "adult" home when it comes to decor. For the most part, our living room consists of a number of hand-me-downs and lived-too-longs, such as the disgusting corduroy Ikea sofa that Alexis has owned since he was 20 and its partner, the less disgusting Ikea futon that I inherited from my old roommate, Cheesebus. Nothing matches and a good selection of the furniture is made of particle board. Basically, our current home clearly illustrates that we have moved from apartment to apartment and are not done yet. And that we have four cats and are unwilling to spend too much money on something that might get ruined. By cats.
Still, there are a few important items (Note: wow, that is a really old photograph- I can't believe how empty our apartment looked!). My maternal grandmother's house was fully furnished with things from Hunt Country Furniture- except in the late 40's and early 50's, they made things out of pine. I wouldn't normally leap to claim this style as my own; however the pieces that were passed down after grandma's death are quite beautiful- a number of dining and end tables, a hutch, a birdcage writing chair and long bench. Many of these were in my childhood home for as long as I could remember (my grandmother passed away when I was three) and when my parents sold my childhood house in '02, I inherited a number of them. They are the only things that I have that span more than one generation and a long list of memories are associated with them- including a few fuzzy images from when my grandmother was alive.
Months ago I took a look at the Hunt site and found a wonderful rocking chair and had a great longing. I asked my parents if they would give us a ride to the warehouse upstate at some point, then promptly forgot about my request and got lost in the details of daily life. When Alexis and I opened our holiday gifts, we were stunned to discover that my parents had gone ahead and bought us the chair, and with it came a beautiful handmade hanging quilt made by my mother.
Both items are now in our living room and looking at them makes my heart hurt- in a very good way. Aside from the writing desk that my father made for me last year, the rocking chair is the first real non-hand-me-down piece of artisan furniture that we have ever owned. There is a wonderful feeling to have something that you know will last for a long, long time. When I sit in the chair and look at the quilt, I am immediately transported to visions of the future. The generation that we create will probably gently rock in the chair, gazing at the quilt, first in our arms, later on their own and even farther down the road, perhaps they will place both pieces in their own apartment or house. I could only hope that the memories and emotions assigned to them would grow and evolve just as they have with the birdcage chair, then bench, the dining table.
Welcome to our home, first generation chair and quilt. We hope to give you a much better space to live at some point...and more warmth and memories to fill you. And thank you, Mom & Dad, for helping us along.
Posted by callalillie at January 21, 2008 7:24 PM | Introspect
, La Familia
A beautiful post, and a beautiful chair.
Posted by: jenblossom at January 21, 2008 11:06 AM
A chair to rock babies. I cried.
Posted by: Nicole at January 21, 2008 11:50 AM
Your chair, quilt, and - most notably - your vision for the future are poignantly beautiful. Cheers to Nancy and Bob for their keen sense of listening and helping you & Lex grow your dreams.
Posted by: Erin at January 22, 2008 12:20 PM
What a lovely chair, and what a lovely post. Is that crochet being done by your hands? It, too, is lovely (I am a knitter and crochet-er, too.)
Posted by: kmkat at January 24, 2008 12:18 PM
Yes :) Except that it's the first afghan that I've worked on in years and it's severely crooked. I guess watching endless hours of the Wire and crocheting at the same time only results in dropped stitches.
Posted by: corie at January 24, 2008 12:43 PM
You may want to subscribe to the "trotting horse" theory of needlework: if an error/dropped stitch/unintentional increase cannot be seen by someone trotting by on a horse, then it is not worth worrying about.
And if that doesn't work, try the "galloping horse" theory :)
Posted by: kmkat at January 25, 2008 5:42 PM
Hi Corie -
that's a beautiful, sentimental post. I always grew up with rocking chairs in my house, and thinking about this, had to laugh. We also always had cats in the house, and during thunderstorms, my Dad used to play his acoustic guitar and sing the Loggins & Messina song "Long Tail Cat", whose first verse is:
"Long tailed cat sitting by the old rocking chair
He don't realize that there's a danger there
He don't care if no rockin and roll chair
Is gonna boogie on his day
cause he's swinging his tail to a low down syncapate"
To hear a cover of this, visit http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YEHxBRQbjm8 . I don't know if there's a song on the planet that will ever remind me of my father more than this one! It's embedded in my childhood. In fact, until I saw this on YouTube, I don't think I ever heard anybody other than him sing it! Not even Loggins & Messina. I'll have to send him the link.
And the cliche "nervous as a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory (or room full of rocking chairs)" is actually pretty funny when you think about it. Unless, of course, you're the cat.
=^..^=
Posted by: jcinmiami at January 26, 2008 2:57 PM
Hey Corie -
I just read this post and was instantly transported back to my childhood! We ended up with some of grandma's Hunt furniture as well... a circular coffee table, one chair, and two end tables. I can remember sitting on the floor of our livingroom at the coffee table and having a tea party with nobody but myself and my imagination. When I moved into my first apartment in Brooklyn I took all of those pieces with me and brought them around to every place I have been since. Now they are on Long Island with my mom safely stored away until the time comes when I have a place of my own.
Posted by: Rachel at February 15, 2008 1:42 PM
