My Dad's Chair

I have been fortunate enough to have a sewing room in the last several places I've lived. As a matter of fact, the only place I didn't have a sewing room was at my parent’s house. Now, when I say sewing room, some of these sewing rooms have been mere spaces sectioned off in basements. I even had one when my sister and I were roommates in the "not so nice" part of town. That was in the early 90's when stenciling was big and she stenciled purple grapes and green vines all around the cinder block walls. She did that for me as a surprise and I loved it. Having a dedicated room to sew has always been very important to me. It is my sanctuary. One of my favorite places to be, and if life wasn't happening around me, it's a place I would never leave. There have certainly been times I've been in that room from sunup to sunup for days. I recently saw this quote someone posted on facebook “nothing motivates me more than the last minute". How fitting for me?! That definitely sums up the reason for the hours on end I have spent in there. This house is no different, Mike Richardson has been working on our basement and he gave me a grown-up sewing room. It has a door and a window and closets and it is just perfect! My current set up for my sewing machine (The Husqvarna Viking - Ah Ahh Ahhh) is an old vanity that was in my brothers’ room when they all lived at my parent’s house. My dad took the mirror off the back and I've been sewing on it since I was 14 years old. The chair I use is an old wood kitchen chair. Now that I have more space in my new sewing room I bought a large used desk that I'm going to refinish (which will likely be the subject of a future blog) but I need a better chair.

I went to my Mom's house recently and she needed some help in the basement, so down we went. I asked her if I could go into my dad's office because I wanted to find this old map holder he kept in the car with a bunch of city maps inside. I don't know why I expected that my mom would have kept it, but I walked into his office thinking it would just be sitting right there on his desk. Somehow I was surprised that almost all of his stuff is gone. But it is. The desk is pretty much empty, his typewriter is gone, and the maps were nowhere to be found. His desk, his chair, and a few of his accessories are still there, but not much more than that.

Also sitting on the desk was his AM radio. When I walked into that room I swear I could hear the sound of WJR with the static of the AM radio in the background. The room still smells the same. Of course it has the smell of a basement, but the smell of the big metal desk and the vinyl on the chair is the same. Exactly as I remember it. It's amazing how certain smells can bring memories flooding back. My mom gave my niece one of my dad's handkerchiefs as a gift for her wedding and when she opened it, both my sister and I tried to smell it to see if it still had his smell.

Here is the junky radio that provided the sounds of the Butler household for as far back as I can remember. It was either WJR talk radio or Ernie Harwell announcing a Tiger baseball game. Actually, the one pictured below was the "new" radio. I can still vividly see the old white one sitting on the counter in the kitchen.

I tried to pull myself together because I was overwhelmed with nostalgia and thoughts of my dad sitting at his desk with me right by his side. I remember sitting on the corner of the desk while he worked. He would let me answer his phone as if I were his secretary. I remember reading Treasure Island for a school project at that desk. I remember punching holes in paper with his funky hole puncher and we all sharpened our pencils on the sharpener he had on the wall. It's funny the things you remember when you stroll down memory lane.

Here is a picture of the funky hole punch.

My Mom added interesting little anecdotes while were down there too. She said she didn't even know my dad was getting a desk until he came home with it one day. She said he got it from a buddy and she was sure he didn't pay anything for it. The fluorescent lights were free from somebody who was throwing them away. And all of the doors that are in the basement were from a job site that our old neighbor Ronnie Simmons was working at and my dad said he wanted them. I loved hearing those stories because I realized that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree! He loved free just as much as I do!

Finally, I asked my Mom if I could have my dad's chair. I barely choked out the question. She said "yes of course, take it and take anything else you would like. I can't take it with me and it's not doing anybody any good just sitting down here".

As you can tell from the pictures the chair is showing its age. I don't remember when the seat split and the duck tape was added. I remember it always being in great shape. When I was little I thought it was so cool that the back rest part of the chair flipped completely around. I did many a spins in that chair and almost fell more than a few times. The bones are still great, it rolls like a gem and I think it will look amazingly fresh and retro in a damask fabric.

I was happy she said I could have it, but then I became filled with anxiety. I knew that once I got my hands on this chair, I would change this picture forever. The scene will be altered. And it isn't just my scene or picture. I was going to alter this for my brothers and sisters too. The picture in their heads may now change. The smell will go away. I tried to take as many pictures as I could so I can always remember. It sounds so silly.... it's just a desk and a chair in a basement. But to me and my siblings it is so much more.

I loaded the chair in my car and I took the funky hole punch and the pencil sharpener and I even took the dictionary. Yeah, the 5 pound giant dictionary. I don't know why I took the dictionary! Why the hell did I take the dictionary???? I needed to take it. It has some large colorful botanical pictures in it, I'm not sure what project that will be yet, but I'm sure I'll need it for something.

I got the chair home and it made it as far as the garage. It looks different in this scene, which is good.

I think I need to just keep looking at it.

I'm not ready to rip it apart and reupholster it yet.

I need to keep it just as it is for a little while longer.

I can't do it.

Not today anyway.

~Sheila

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