My
mother, Audrey, when she was in her 80s and 90s, used to say that one reason
she was still happy, alert, and making new friends at her age, was that she had
a lot of furniture of the mind. By this
she meant that she had read a lot of books, listened carefully to lectures and
television documentaries, and thought a lot about philosophy and life: Life
with a capital L, that is.
But
she also was quite attached to furniture of the house, and she passed that
affection, and a lot of the furniture itself, on to me.
I have
been thinking of the inventory of the furniture she left me, and the other
pieces I have had from here and there, and thought it would be a good
jumping-off place for a ramble down memory lane.
One of
the most important pieces of furniture is The Desk. It was important to my mother and father, as
it was one of the first pieces they acquired when setting up their household.
There are a few pictures of Mum seated at the desk, writing to her husband Doug
(Sr.), who was overseas in England for nearly 5 years during and after The War
(World War II). It was also the desk I
used as a university student, reading books with tiny print and sketching out
essays as best I could. (I had the downstairs bedroom at 701 Leroy, once we
stopped having boarders). It is in my
house now, at 134 Caroline, and used to store odd objects. For Mum, it was her
everyday filing spot. There are “secret” compartments where important things
(small ones) can be stashed. It is a well-designed piece of furniture, and even
comes apart for transport, which is handy.
The upper shelves are glassed for displays, and at the moment they hold
some of my Dad’s and grandfather’s trophies and a lovely silver flask, and some
other treasures.
Of
course, a desk is nothing without a Chair. The Chair is at my house, too, but
not right against the desk, because of space.
But it does fit well under the desk, and I spent many hours studying in
it when I was younger. Now it makes a good place to rest, read mail, wait for
others, or put shoes on. There were two chairs like this, and when I was young,
they were upholstered in yellow, but at some point they became blue, and
unfortunately, they became separated. Mum sold one of the pair to her Bayfield
neighbor, Mrs. Reddick. I was sad, because I thought they belonged together.
The
most “famous” piece of furniture is Tea Wagon. He has had a whole book written
about him and he has been cherished by generations of children, even before he
became magic (or before we knew about his magic). As far as I know his story,
he was a wedding present to my Varty grandparents, Trixie and George, in the
early 1900s. His rich mahogany finish
(to match his rich mahogany voice, of course) became black with the years, and
Mum had him refinished sometime in the 1990s. He is paler now, but more sturdy
than when he stayed with us in the 1980s. His wheels are firmly attached, and
his wings flap out reliably. His “secret” drawer is still available. In the
stories, it carries many useful items, but in real life that is where Mum kept
her cash. For now, Tea Wagon sits quietly in my inglenook (or music room)
but I hope he will continue to venture
far afield in our imaginations (with Kevin or Rachel or Bea or Cole or Mary Ann
or Laura ensconced on the lower shelf and Mrs. Chipmunk riding high, giving
rhyming directions).
“Laura’s
Red Room”, or the upstairs guest room, now holds quite a few of the family
furniture treasures. Primarily, there are the twin beds which, according to
family lore, my Dad made in his father’s factory, the National Radio Cabinet
Company. They are an odd size, which means getting custom mattresses for them
every time, but they are lovely and sturdy. Over the years, their original box
springs have been traded for wooden slats and thicker mattresses, and there is
a sticker on one that seems impossible to remove. (It came, I think, from
Alexander’s House of Staples one Hallowe’en.) It has been there since Rachel
shared the room and the beds with either Kevin or Mary Ann. I slept in those
beds as a child, at 701 Leroy, and shared a room with my grandmother, Babe, for several
years on weekends, and later, all the time.
The
other treasure in that room is the Mirrored Vanity from my Granny Varty’s house
at 107 Lytton Boulevard. It was in the
unused master bedroom (used by my parents when we visited) and was part of a
larger set, with Vs carved into the fronts of the bed and dresser. I had the
bed but it fell apart from old age. The 3-part mirror always fascinated me as a
child. It was so amazing to tilt the wings around and see one’s own back and
sides! I have the dresser set (brush,
mirror, hairbrush, comb and button hook) that always rested on the vanity’s
shelf. It is not a useful piece of
furniture, as it takes up a lot of space in a house with small rooms, but the
mirrors are still magical to me.
Another
piece of special furniture is the large Dresser now residing in our basement
guest room. For years it served as my Mum’s dining-room sideboard or buffet,
where she kept tablecloths, candles, albums, important papers, and many other
things. I think it once belonged to my grandparents or great-grandparents on
the Dalrymple side, but certainly it was already old when my Dad got his hands
on it. He decided to modernize it, taking off the columns at the front and
giving it a plainer aspect. Still, it was and is a massive piece of wood. Our
friends Graham and Judy have a similar piece, in original condition. Mum seemed
always to be cross that Dad “mutilated” it, but it is still large and useful
and attractive.
In the
basement, at the moment, is the piece I call the Trefoil Table. It was at the
cottage in Bayfield, and I took it upon myself to refinish it, in the summer of
1964. I was working on it when I met Neil. Unfortunately, I had to remove the
broken bits of metallic edging, and one of the glass-ball feet is lost forever.
One
thing we don’t have in our house that belongs in this inventory is the Piano.
It was built by Mason & Risch in 1923, so it is the same age as our house.
It was bought second-hand by the Collishaws when Neil was old enough to take
piano lessons. All the siblings practiced on it, especially Ruth Ann, who
became quite good. Once Ruth Ann left home, my Mum bought it from the
Collishaws and had it shipped up to Ottawa, where it fit perfectly into our
Music Room. Rachel, Kevin and Mary Ann practised on it, and visitors sometimes
tickled the old ivories, too. It had a cracked soundboard, but since it was an
upright grand, it still had lots of power. When we moved to France, we left it
behind—the posting was only for 2 years—in the care of tenants. When it became
apparent that we would be staying away longer and we should and could have the
rest of our “effects”, the piano joined us in Echenevex, in the big white
house. There it was a centerpiece and Laura learned to play. It was there that
we discovered its age, because the piano tuner had a book listing all the
pianos made in North America by serial number! It was difficult to move to
Ferney when we renovated our own house there, but it found a spot in the
basement, quite happily, and later made the move back to Ottawa, back to 134
Caroline. But no one played it anymore, so it moved to Rachel’s house on Sims
Avenue, where Beatrix practised her lessons and grandfather Keith could make it
ring at times. But when Bea gave up the piano, The Piano moved across the road
to friends, where it makes music to this day.
Aside
from the Piano, the Collishaws also supplied one of my favourite family pieces,
the bookcase that now sits in the sunroom at home. It was a paint shelf in the
basement at 29 Empress, and Neil rescued it for our first apartment in London.
We gave it a heavy coat of stained, dark varnish and it has served us very well
all these years.
Besides
the items above, there is a photographic portrait of my great-grandmother, Mary
Jane Trothen Dalrymple, in a frame that was once damaged in the floods at 701
Leroy, and a round mirror that Mum had, which I always liked. And of course,
her paintings, which are numerous.
There
is one more bit of furniture with a family connection: The Radio. In our
bedroom I have an old Stromberg-Carlson table radio in a fancy wooden case, and
it is marked with the initials NRC, for National Radio Cabinet. Mum bought it
from a neighbor on Leroy, so we can’t say it is a real family antique, but it
is related. It has vacuum tubes and we used to use it as our regular radio,
before the CBC and most stations switched to the FM band. It gets short wave
(theoretically) and AM, but predates FM. For quite a while, I used to listen to
the Oldies station, 1310, on the old radio, but the station went to all news
and the tubes are getting weaker.
At the
cottage, I have a few more family furnishings. For a long time, over 30 years,
I have had the wicker couch from our Bayfield cottage. I believe it “came with”
that cottage when Babe bought it in the 1920s; it certainly is that old. I used
to sleep on it as a child, when a spare bed was needed. It was (and is) a
little hard, but just the right size for a short person. When we brought it to the cottage, I recovered
the cushions in red and painted the wicker grey. I had the rocker that went
with it for many years, as well, but it succumbed to age and had to go. When
Babe used it at the cottage, she always had a big, round cushion behind her,
because she was much shorter than me. She sat in it while we played 2-handed
euchre or cribbage. It had odd rockers, and tall people had a tendency to tip
over backwards.
Now I
also have two wicker chairs that came from 107 Lytton, my Granny Trixie’s
house. One is low and always sat in a corner of the kitchen. The other is a
platform rocker that belonged in the upstairs sun porch. Mum had both of them
for many years, and some other pieces that have found good homes.
Cousin
Doris Nicholls gave Mum 3 wooden chairs, the dining-table sort, which had some
connection to her mother, Aunt Allie, in Bayfield. Mum never knew what to do
with them and stored them in a closet, but they ended up at our cottage as
spare chairs.
Some
of the old furniture in our lives was purchased at antique stores, flea markets
and, of course, St Vincent de Paul, and some “just appeared”.
