The Chair

When I was in college during my sophomore year I returned home during Christmas break to be with my family. Actually I went home for every extended break. While most of the people I went to school with were from out of the area, college was only an hour away from home for me. I chose the school because of my major, but its location was a big deciding factor. It was far enough away to be out on my own for the first time, but still close enough to be able to get home in case of emergencies. One of the things I'm proud of is that I never abused this closeness to get Mom to do a big load of laundry or eat a home cooked meal under the guise of missing my family. In return, Mom never abused the closeness by being a doting mother and checking on me at college. In fact, I think she was on campus twice during my time there. The first time was Orientation Day as an incoming freshman, and the other was Commencement Day four years later on the lawn of the Library.

That holiday break when I went home I filled in at the Champs Sporting Goods that I had worked at the previous summer. My boss was good to work for (and really attractive too) and the money was much needed for a college student. I knew the routine so I could jump in immediately without any training, and it wouldn't take too much time away from the family. One night after a long day/night of working to satisfy all of the holiday mall shoppers, I drove home and about four houses down from ours I saw a reclining chair out by the street to be picked up with the rest of the trash. Needing a chair for my dorm room, I parked and investigated. In the dark of the night, it didn't look too bad. The fabric was a bit worn but not ripped and the extending footrest was wobbly and somewhat disconnected from the arm. This had potential.

So I got up early the next morning to check out the chair in the light of day and to beat the trash truck if I wanted to keep it. It was perfect and the price was right. The owner must have seen me scoping out the goods, because he came out to talk to me. He explained that he just had back surgery and the chair was no longer comfortable for him to sit in because it didn't provide enough support. I asked if he was just throwing it away whether I could take it. He said sure and actually went to his garage to get a two-wheel hand cart so I could handle getting it home by myself. A little wood putty and a few screws took care of the wobbly footrest. Sweet.... beer money for next semester and a new recliner to dress up the dorm room. This was shaping up to be a great Christmas!

That chair was like heaven for me. I can't honestly tell you how many times I fell asleep in that recliner, watching TV, reading a book, or listening to music. I took that chair everywhere I went. It made two more round-trips to college for my junior and senior years. It made the big move when I packed up and headed for Colorado Springs, the first time I had ever lived on my own. I had virtually nothing and the Ryder truck was mostly empty. A bed frame with no mattress or box spring, a dining room set I bought from a co-worker, some pots and pans donated from my Mom, plates/silverware that were donated from a friend whose mother recently passed away, and my recliner. I slept in that recliner about a week until my new bedroom set was delivered.

My chair made the trip back to the East Coast when I moved to New Hampshire. It barely fit into my too-small apartment, but nothing would separate me and my recliner. I lived there for five years and never assembled the dining room set just so I would have room for my chair. Obviously I ate a good many meals from the coffee table and sofa. The recliner came along when I made the short hop from New Hampshire to Massachusetts. Now in a bigger apartment, I could have a dining room and my recliner. What a luxury... moving on up to the big time. Oh so many Saturdays and Sundays, plopped down in that recliner with a big bowl of chips and dip, beer at the ready in the kitchen, watching college and NFL football games.

Then a big life change... leaving the company I work at for 12 years and relocating to California. My therapist and I had many conversations prior to and during the change. She felt it was good for me, that I would grow and flourish. We talked a lot about it and at some point I mentioned the chair. It was her opinion that maybe it was a good idea not bring the chair along. The chair represented all the baggage and history since that morning during Christmas break that I had carried along. Moving to California was a fresh start, a new beginning, and the chair embodied the past and all the sometimes troublesome worries of years gone by. I gave it quite a bit of consideration. She was right about so many other things and had helped me through a turbulent time, maybe she was making some sense.

The movers arrived on a Tuesday afternoon. They worked their way from the back of the apartment to the front... bedrooms to kitchen to finally living room. When the place was nearly empty, they asked if the chair was coming along. The moment of truth had arrived and in a split second I said, "no, it's staying here." In that instant, I jettisoned twenty years of my life. But my therapist, this time she was wrong. Her logic made sense to a troubled soul looking for a new start; but in all of those years none of my problems, worries, and issues were wrapped up in that chair. That chair was my sanctuary, a place I relaxed... a place away from troubles... a place that brought me peace in doing things that I loved... a place I felt safe enough to let my guard down and sleep. I cried when a 46 year old Jack Nicklaus won his 6th Masters golf tournament from that chair. I cheered when the 86 year curse was broken and the Boston Red Sox won the 2004 World Series. I chilled to Van Halen and Led Zeppelin from that chair, and feasted on popcorn watching countless movies. My fears, issues and worries still trouble me. They did not stay with that chair, because they were never there. But now my sanctuary is gone.