Woodye and Orville Kessler
Yesterday, I suggested a link to my cousin’s poetry blog at wildamorris.blogspot.com. In case you didn’t visit, I’m going to share from it here. Wilda’s poem below got me to thinking about some chairs in my past. Maybe you will do the same. The cute and happy couple on the left are Wilda’s parents (sitting in chairs!).
I am copying here from Wilda’s blog:
A few years ago, I wrote a poem about a particular piece of furniture, the gold-colored recliner in which I rocked many of my grandchildren. When I see it, I often think of my first grandchild, Florence Irene Penrod, who died shortly before her seventh birthday. She was the first child I rocked to sleep in the recliner. So the chair often brings poignant memories of Florrie. Though the poem only mentions two grandchildren, there were several others I rocked to sleep in that same chair, especially Florrie’s younger siblings who spent a lot of days and nights in my home while their sister was in the hospital. This poem—with the chair as prompt—recalls a journey of healing from loss. The sorrow of losing Florrie will remain with me always, but in time, I recalled more of the beautiful memories and learned to smile when I thought of her.
The Gold Recliner
Does this gold recliner remember
how many times Florrie rested
her head on my shoulder,
how she giggled at funny sounds,
how I sang “Don’t Fence Me In”
and “You Are My Sunshine”
as we rocked and fell into slumber.
Does the recliner know
she’d have been twenty
this year had she lived?
Now Lucas climbs between
the recliner’s enfolding arms,
five-year-old hands grasping
this week’s favorite superhero,
curls his tired body
into the golden lap to rest.
Only a couple years ago
Lucas let me hold him
as we read the same books
each afternoon, and finally one day
I could sing “You Are My Sunshine”
to this other grandchild,
after all those years
it had turned to dust in my throat.
~ Wilda Morris
This poem was first published on the website of Highland Park Poetry, http://www.highlandparkpoetry.org/, after winning in the adult non-resident division of their 2011 Poetry Challenge.
**** I will be sharing my “chair memories” in upcoming posts. What about you? Is there a chair in your past or present that elicits memories for you? Are you in possession of a chair that belonged to an ancestor? What do you know of the chair’s history?
Please comment about your chair memories! And if you like to write poetry, enter Wilda’s June Poetry Challenge and write a poem inspired by a piece of furniture.
I look forward to reading your memories!
The picture above was taken at my uncle’s house in July 1999 during a family trip to Iowa. He had a small workshop and had taken up making trivets and Christmas ornaments and other “doodads” with his saw and pieces of scrap wood and siding. The white ornaments he gave us really stand out on our Christmas tree. There is one in this picture right above Lola’s head.
Here are a few of the trivets and decorative items he gave us during our visit. His hobby also reminded me of his mother. Grandma Abbie enjoyed crafting and continued making things for others even as her eyesight was failing.
