© 2011 by Betty Ladue
My dad bought the rocking chair at an auction for four dollars circa 1950. It was about time; by then there were four children under the age of nine, and the rocking chair had already missed so many wonderful opportunities for soothing comfort!
The family, of which I was the baby, was getting ready to go to church one Sunday morning. You must accept the historical passed-down word for this, as I have no memory of the incident. We had a concrete-floored kitchen on which the rocking chair sat. I was presumably bored because they were all ignoring me in the rush of “Sunday best,” so I rocked . . . and rocked . . . and rocked so hard that I threw myself out of the chair onto the floor and knocked myself out. I must have put a quick end to Sunday church that day. I am told that my reputation as a family celebrity was made at that moment. Up until that time, not one of us kids had had the enviable distinction of being out cold. I still regret that I cannot actually remember that noteworthy occasion!
At one point, my parents were big into “antiquing,” a method of painting furniture and finishing up with a wash of dark paint rubbed on, made to look like wood grain. So the beautiful old wood chair was reborn into a dull red (albeit fake) antique and was thereafter called the Old Red Rocking Chair. My mother purchased matching material and reupholstered the cushioned seat and backrest. It was in this disguise that the rocking chair lived the next several decades of its life.
The years passed and through all the moves to other places, the rocking chair, as an honored family member, came along each time. Eventually it became my possession, I guess by default from my infamous Sunday morning debacle. I rocked my babies #1 and #2 in the old red rocking chair with its outdated upholstery and loved knowing the history that came with it! Sometime in the mid-1970s, child #3 and I spent an entire night in the chair as we gave birth to a tooth. It was a rough night for all three of us – baby Timmy, the rocking chair, and me!
As life went on, the chair was always one of the first things in the moving van. When placed in an unfamiliar room, it bestowed on the place the distinction of “home” by its very presence.
Eventually I took the chair to a refinisher and had the red antiquing and old cushioning removed to rediscover the familiar smooth grain of an unknown wood that had been touched and caressed by so many cherished hands. It spent some time cushionless and unusable.
When my youngest child married, she asked if she could have the chair when I was ready to give it up. It had played its part in my history, and I felt confident it could begin its role in her life. It has sat in her basement these last three years, unused and waiting. When she told me that she was going to be a mama, she asked that my gift to her would be refurbishing the Old Red Rocking Chair.
Currently it is with a professional who is going to breathe new life back into our old friend. He’ll respring the seat and create a new cushion and backrest out of fabric that costs $35 a yard. The total cost of my earlier refinishing and this current phase will be approximately $300. High society for the four-dollar chair, but so well worth it!
I look forward to rocking my new grandchild in this chair; better yet, I look forward to standing back and watching the baby’s mother do the rocking. My wish is that the chair and its story remain in the family forever.
Betty Ladue has been an avid reader all of her life, but her writing was done predominantly for work. Since a company-wide downsizing, she has had time to hone her talents as a member of the newly formed New Stanton Writers’ Group.
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