Reuse, recycle, reduce…and rejoice

Hubby Ralph and I were discussing how it might be nice to redo the living room (after all, it’s been the same for almost for 15 years), or maybe we could paint the kitchen, or knock a hole in a wall and make another entrance. And wouldn’t it be nice to have a different couch and chair? Whoops, just rereading this and realize it may not be entirely correct to intimate Ralph was really a part of this conversation. He was only on the receiving end of my words. His only job in this ‘conversation’ was to grunt in agreement.

But it did start us talking about home styles and what our parents had compared to what we have. And I recalled how my dad used to describe the furnishings in our military PMQ (Permanent Married Quarter) as ‘Early Canadian Poverty’. Our beds were old metal bunks thrown out from the men’s barracks. Our mattresses, also thrown out, came from the women’s barracks. They were very skinny so my mom washed them all in Javex and sewed two together till there were six mattresses where previously there had been 12. Our blankets (always red or grey) had DND (Department of National Defence) emblazoned across the bottom, our cutlery was engraved CPR. Lord knows how these ended up in our cutlery drawer but dad said they had belonged to ‘that illustrious industrialist’ Charles Peter Rabbit and I believed it for years. Raising six kids on a military salary, my parents had to be very creative with money.

As I got older I began to resent all our used things and furnishings. My friends families (who always had less than six kids) had new things. Bought for them. From stores. Or catalogues. Not handed down. I was envious. I vowed I would never have anything second hand in my house when I was older.

Fast forward 10 years when I begin to furnish my first real home for my daughter and I. Money was in short supply but lucky for me - What!? Lucky for me? my parents had some furnishings they no longer needed. I scored two living room chairs which, I would learn my mom had bought second hand some 40 years previous. And a dresser that had belonged to my Great Aunt Maude, the back covered in very obvious old slats. And then there was the chaise lounge bought in the ‘20’s by my aunt’s husband who was from a very wealthy family who travelled all over the world. And for reasons still unknown to me, no one in the family wanted the old glass covered kidney desk from that same aunt’s home. And before I knew it....oh no! I had a home filled with second hand, flea market, yard sale furniture. And I love it all!

Every piece has a history. When I look around our house all these years later, it’s not stuff I see. It’s memories. Every piece has a story. Every piece has a ‘remember when’ attached to it. A background. An event or a person. Every piece has a smile.

Every child’s nightmare has happened. I have become my parents. And on a recent visit home, I asked my daughter if she wanted those two living room chairs (now 75+ years old) and to my great joy, she said yes. Thanks mom! Thanks dad! I see you both everywhere.

Sheila Graham is a member of the Amherst News Community Editorial Panel.