A few weeks back my young man, commonly
referred to as Davis, made a change in his place of residence. This new abode
was a mere two hours from my own apartment. As was natural I made plans to
visit him on the first possible weekend. On hearing this news, the parents, moved to compassion by his need of furniture, offered him several tables. They described these possible tables to me and I
relayed the descriptions to him. Photographic evidence was also submitted and a
table selected. The family asked me if it would be acceptable for them to come
up for dinner with us and to drop off the table at that time. I informed the
family that it would be agreeable for them to come, as long as they we able to
provide seating implements. They assured me that chairs were coming and I
foolishly reposed in the confidence that everyone would have a place to
sit.
The morning of the visit dawned bright and
beautiful. After a two hour drive, made brief by a librivox version of the
Pickwick Papers, the fires of my love, and the lead which may or may not reside
in my foot, I was reunited with Davis. We accompanied each other to a church
and frolicked through his brand new apartment. It was then that he confided a
fear to me. In his establishment it is customary to report the arrival of new
furniture several days ahead of time and to reserve the special freight
elevator. Davis had not warned these sentinels of the lobby until that very morning
of the impending furniture, and while the young man at the desk had not seemed
too concerned, Davis feared that the changing of the guard would mean a less
friendly reception when the table actually arrived. We decided to hope for the
best and continue bravely on.
An abrupt halt to the happiness of
the afternoon occurred when we faced an unexpected challenge: the ironing of
pants. We were assisted in surmounting this by the fact that Davis' mother had
convinced him to acquire an iron and ironing board. However, even the ownership
of such useful objects could not overcome our inexperience in the field of
ironing pants. Many have bemoaned the difficulty of choosing a working woman's
wardrobe, but I find the wide array of choices allows me to avoid, as I would
the plague (whether it be bubonic or pneumonic), any hint of required ironing.
Davis, however, was not in such a happy position. The complexities of
differentiating between a crease made by inexpert ironing and the all-important
original crease brought us nearly to the point of despair. After the making of
many rash vows involving the future consignment of his ironing to the dry
cleaners, we were able to mold the pants into a presentable state.
Much of the remains of the afternoon were
spent crafting the perfect sushi for the family's eagerly awaited arrival. As
is always expected with the family, they called to let us know they would be
half an hour late. Somehow we were able to persevere through the extra
half-hour of time together.
The phone call received from the
aforementioned family, informing us of their presence in the parking lot was
the catalyst for the moment of truth with the security guard. The friendly
young man of the morning was replaced by a fearsome guard of darkness, who,
after several not-so-friendly looks in our direction allowed us to bring up the
requisite furniture. He made it clear that no furniture could be brought
through the lobby and so I had Pop pull the car around to the loading dock
while I sent the rest of the family to seek shelter in the lobby under the
baleful gaze of the security guard.
As the trunk of the car was opened I
gasped in horror. The table I had imagined to be extendable was in fact little
better than an end table with no possibility of extension. Not only that, but
my chagrin was amplified by the sight of only two chairs. How could we, a
family of six, eat at such a small table with only three real chairs?
Fortunately the parents had foreseen that the table might be too small and had
brought a second option. This second table could be extended, even to the point
of accommodating all six of us. But what was to be done about the chairs?
This thought was constantly in my mind as we carefully carried the furniture in
through the back entrance to avoid shocking any residents with the thought that
furniture might be coming into their building.
When we reached the apartment Pop
immediately claimed the desk chair as his own. Isaiah, the youngest brother,
likewise took himself to one of the caned chair brought by the parents. Mother
seated herself upon a low college-dorm style chair which I had brought and I
seated myself at the second chair brought by the parents. Timmy, the older of
my two younger brothers, and Davis found themselves chairless in a chair
forsaken world. They both coped with this discovery in their own way. Timmy by
stacking two crates on top of each other and Davis by flipping over a trash
can.
Isaiah shared with us his debates with his sixth grade social
studies teacher including the exclamation that he should "play the prove-it
card more often". We all groaned for her sake. Inwardly reflecting on what
a nightmare he must be to have in class. Despite this, it is likely that his
report card, like that of almost every student will bear the shining
commendation "a pleasure to have in class". We also learned of the
parents’ still unsuccessful battle to have him moved to the higher math class.
For, in their prejudiced against outsiders, the school district had
automatically placed him in the lower section of math, permanently harming his ability
to take BC calculus seven years from now.
As this fascinating discussion was taking
place Davis' trash can was folding in upon itself and had to be replaced with a
large cooler. Desert was crafted and served as Pop expounded on various
memories of his years in middle-school. It was about this time that I began to
feel a giving way of the seat of my chair and soon had to abandon it all
together. The rest of desert I viewed from the floor, gazing longingly up at
the impossible height of the table.
Despite the setbacks of the day various
goals had been duly achieved and Davis had, in fact, acquired a table and one
functional chair, which, after the fate of the other chair, he was afraid to
sit upon. The experience will, I am sure, bring us closer together and inspire
us all to ensure that enough chairs a brought to family gathering in future.
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