My mom had an antique PINK rocking chair in her kitchen. In 1956 she picked it up for a song-much to my dad’s chagrin-at a used furniture store. She promptly painted it pink to match her kitchen wallpaper. This rocker was mostly for looks because Mom worked long days and prepared dinner when she got home. After the dishes were done, she was ready to go to bed! There was precious little time to sit and rock!
But that pink rocker did not go unused. Whenever my maternal grandmother came to visit, she would sit in that pink rocker, compliment Mom for choosing that particular rocking chair, and pay close attention to the meal prep as well as the laying of the table. She and Mom had some grand visits during those times.
Grandma Wagner was arthritic for as long as I can remember. She was also sweet, thoughtful and caring. As mom finished a salad or put the final touches on a pan of dinner rolls she would show Grandma the product and Grandma would just swoon with delight. Oh, she was SURE nobody could cook and entertain like her daughter. Incidentally, I happened to agree with that. Dad always made sure his mother in law got to sit at the head of the table, where it was easy for her to maneuver from the pink rocker and she enjoyed her meals with us beyond measure.
When it was Grandma Pieper’s turn to visit, she made sure we all knew she loved that rocking chair as much as my mom did. Grandma Pieper was color blind before she lost her eyesight so she had no issue with the color! And she thought the sun rose and set on her daughter in law!
At 33-grin-I am older than my Grandma Wagner was when she left us. I can now fully appreciate the joy Grandma took in watching the two of us working together in the kitchen, while she kept that pink rocking chair warm.
The wooden pink rocker eventually made its way to a yard sale, where someone snapped it up and painted it a creamy white. Somehow, it seemed to me, that white paint covered up the chair’s charm.
There is another rocking chair that holds a place in my heart. It is the one in the photo on this post. This little sewing rocker belonged to my mother’s grandmother. After Grandma Jenny True died, Grandpa True, at age 94, left the house that had been their home and rented a modest sleeping room above the drug store in their tiny Midwest town. He wanted Grandma Jenny's rocker to move with him so kind soul hauled up the steep stairs for him.
Grandpa needn’t cook; he could take his meals at the local eatery. All he had to do was descend a long narrow staircase and he was just steps away from his next meal.
He spent his days and evenings sitting in Grandma Jenny’s rocking chair, studying the dictionary and looking out his window to observe those who came and went. He seemed to me to be utterly content.
That very rocking chair takes up a part of our dining room and invites guests to “sit for a spell” which they seem pleased to do.
We also have the Boston rocker my mom used for decades because it comfortably supported her back. I think she would approve the update we gave it when we sprayed on a matte black finish.
We fell heir to the blocky, wooden rocking chair that’s been in The Normanator’s family for generations. Those two are placed in our living room; I'd be hard pressed to choose which chair I like better.
It is regrettable that I never knew The Normanator’s parents but it is wonderful to have things in our home that were once used by them. It is comforting to me to sit where Mary Baum once worked on her needlework projects and to relax in the same chair where Fred Baum used to nod off as he read his newspaper.
It is equally regrettable that these now-gone generations did not have the comforting benefits of The Healing Codes. There is no question the quality of their lives could have been enhanced.
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