In the last post we looked at some furniture that has been in the family for a long time. Today we will examine a story that has been repeated through the years. Is it true or is it fiction? My mom was always able to make a good story better, however, I am not sure she would make up something like this:
Chest of Drawers These very useful pieces of furniture seem to change locations the most depending on how well they fit the space or style of the ever so many rooms of our often-moving family.
|Photo courtesy of Camille, The Vintique Object|
My father's dresser became the star in this little story For a few weeks after his death, the top drawer would be open in the morning and a pair of his socks would be on the floor. Mom felt like Daddy was trying to reassure her that he was still around looking out for her. When she moved back to New Mexico it became my husband's, then on to my daughter's house, where a new father keeps his socks in it. No ghostly appearances any more.
This dresser was in my grandparent's guest room. I lived with them when I was a senior in high school because my parents moved to Atlanta and could not bear to make me start a new school in the middle of my senior year. I loved this dresser because it has a secret hiding place where I kept all my most precious things. It was the one piece that I wanted from my grandparent's estate even though it's more ornate Victorian style is not my favorite period, for some reason, it appeals to me.
It was almost sold at auction by the personal representative who handled my grandmother's estate. He thought selling everything and dividing the money would be the simplest solution. All grandmother's heirs hired an attorney to stop the sale and save a good deal of our family heritage. This dresser now lives in our master bedroom. It had useful candle stands on either side of the mirror which broke off in every single one of our many moves through the years. I finally gave up having them repaired and strategically place a lamp on one side and the flowers on the other to hide the broken pieces.
Speaking of my grandmother, that is a portrait hanging to the top and left of the dresser that I did of her from a very faded tin type photo. Her hair had all been cut off when she had scarlet fever. It temporarily grew back in darker that her natural striking red.
Reminder: I am looking for stories and photos of your family treasures (i.e. not necessarily valuable but precious to you none the less.) Please email a story with photo to firstname.lastname@example.org