Growing up we always had one special piece of furniture that was reserved for the man of the house. It was his and his alone. Unless you had his permission you were not to touch, move or sit in his chair. It was the one thing in the house that he could truly call his own. It was his throne. The chair did not have any magical powers, however, when my father was sitting in it, he was the King of his kingdom.
In that chair, he read the paper. He ate his snacks. He watched television. He took naps. He did whatever the hell he wanted to do because he was the King of the House and that was his chair. My dad was so cool that Archie Bunker modeled his chair after George Kirby.
To look at the chair, there was nothing special that would make people notice it. It was a cloth covered recliner that served as a throne. But it was so much more. Over the years, I had so many conversations with my dad while he sat in that chair. While he sat in that chair, I received advice on dating and on life in general. At birthday parties, I remember telling jokes and watching him sit there laughing until tears rolled down his face. From that chair, he read his Bible every morning. That chair also served as his resting place and comfort zone when his body began to fail him later in life. He only ever shared his chair with his most loyal and faithful friend, the family dog, Sam.
I used to have a cloth covered recliner. I never really paid much attention to the fact that no one else in the family ever sat in it other than me. But it was actually kind of cool that every one thought that it was "Dad's Chair." After we got our dog, Lucy, she would sit in the chair with me and we would practice our Spanish and I would give her singing lessons. We had that chair for so long that it finally fell apart. That was several years ago. So, for the last few years, I have been sitting on what I call the most uncomfortable furniture known to mankind.
But today that all changed. We had new living room furniture delivered to the Kirbarosa and included in that delivery was a new recliner. As a family, we had talked that the recliner would be "Dad's Chair" but as I enter the house tonight, there was my oldest son sprawled out all over my new recliner. I got no "George Kirby Respect" as I called it. That's fine... I haven't achieved that status yet. Hopefully one day I'll be half the man that my father was.
It's funny how one piece of furniture can bring back so many memories.
Be Well.
Bill
