Monday, June 4, 2012

Ethan Allen, Anne Frank and Me

Up waaay too early this a.m. with a bladder to thank.

I rested on the living room couch...unheard of, I know, 
an insurance man wasn't even visiting...
well, I thought about my surroundings and furnishings.

Would my childhood self, who tucked ideas of her future grown-up home into boxes and folders...
be happy or even satisfied with what the grown-up girl did with 
her home? 
She didn't care a lot about being content because 
where is the dream in that? 
She had loftier 
ideas about a perfect abode. 

And her influences then? 

Everyone in the family collected antiques. 
Straight across the board. 
That girl had plans for an Early American home, 
sans eagle embellished magazine rack. 


Although, she devoured copies of House Beautiful
which surely had mirrored coffee tables 
mixed with bamboo fern stands 
and travelly items from abroad...

And she was never more confused than when 
walking through the local 
Ethan Allen gallery which went on 
endlessly above our small 
town's family owned department 
New furniture went together
oh-so-nicely and it wouldn't be 
SO bad having a reproduction
copper weathervane on the
new store-bought 
armoire, would it? 

Later, college dorm life was a RUDE
awakening to say the least...
bean bag chair, 

Dream rolled over and died. 
Anne Frank and me? 
Parallel lives. 

NOW the girl was better prepared to
appreciate most anything in the realm
of home furnishings as it would be
a brighter future than that 
dismal dorm
Not to mention the "lucky 13" roommates that 
waltzed in and out of her life from the time she left 
home until she married...

She cross-stitched her way through life
while thoughts of a career, any career fell to the wayside :)
Turns out she wasn't a corporate climbing gal. 
She had a husband to find and a house to 
fill :)

I decided it didn't matter at all what that 
young girl desired,
contentment came on schedule...
along with sentimental things from several
branches of his family and mine.

And in the wee hours on the 
living room couch? 
Everything was rosy
and perfect. 
Three healthy and good-looking sons 
slept peacefully and daddy kissed mama
goodbye as he gaily skipped to work.

You didn't buy THAT did you? 
Well, everything was spot-on except for 
the skipping. 
He was happy though. 
Probably because his wife isn't wishing
to go to the Ethan Allen gallery today. 

Ethan can keep his eagle. 
I'm good.