Colorful “Picasso” chairs by our daughter Molly. (all pictures by Marylin Warner)
Retro-Kitchen step-chair, a perfect reminder of my mother’s kitchen.
A print of VanGogh’s “Chair” in hallway of my mother’s assisted living.
The first chairs were probably flat rocks large enough for cave men to sit on, and high enough to lean against. As civilization evolved, so did chairs: royalty sat on thrones; polio victims traveled in wheel chairs; babies were lulled to sleep in rocking chairs and rode more safely in car seats: convicted killers were sometimes executed in electric chairs.
My mother’s interior design choices were a combination of practical, functional, comfortable and attractive. The upholstered furniture in our home was purchased from stores. Many of the casual tables, wooden chairs, bookcases and blanket chests were inherited or bought at unfinished wood or consignment furniture shops, and then Mom sanded, stained or painted them. I’d find her in the garage, humming in time to her brush strokes that created a colorful desk chair for her writing desk. When I was thirteen, Mom and I bought an old foot stool that I stained, and then together we wove a new cover across the frame.
Our family tradition of chair creations continued this year. For our anniversary gift, our daughter Molly painted metal lawn chairs bright yellow. Her children, big Picasso fans, drew our “portraits,” and Molly painted them on the chairs. On the seats she painted Picasso quotes: “Everything you can imagine is real” and “It takes a long time to grow young.” Even our porch chairs show how much fun restoring and painting can be.
Years after Mom gave a young mother the high chair my brother and I used, her metal kitchen step-chair doubled as a high chair for her grandchildren and any young visitors who stayed for meals. Mom moved the step-chair close to the table, set the child on the padded seat, and safely tied the little one in place with dish towels. My favorite birthday present last year was a red retro-model of Mom’s black step-chair that Jim found in a quaint hardware store in Abilene, KS. Visiting friends see this chair, laugh, and share stories they remember from their parents’ or grandparents’ kitchens. As author Stephen King wrote: “You can’t deny laughter; when it comes, it plops down in your favorite chair and stays as long as it wants.”
Mom’s favorite chairs now are her lounger where she spends most of her waking hours, and dad’s old wheelchair that transports her to the flower garden on nice days. She no longer uses the rocking chair where she used to sing to babies, or the chair that was large enough she could sit with both her great-grandchildren and read to them. Because of her dementia she does not remember these times, but the children do. For them, these chairs are memory makers.
2012 ~ Mom in the wheelchair that was Dad’s, out to enjoy the flowers.
Mom reading to her great-grandchildren in 2007.
Mom in her lounge chair, 2013, wrapped in a quilt made by her mother.
Things I Want To Tell My Mother 
Oh so sweet! My gosh, I used to get tied to one of those padded step-stool chairs with a dish towel – at both my aunt’s house and my grandmother’s house. And I love those painted lawn chairs! Precious!
I’m so very grateful for your mother, Marylin. Thank you for sharing her.
How well I remember the padded step stool Marylin, and also a stool that used to convert easily into a high chair with a quick flick of the wrist. It is funny though how furniture can evoke memories or emotion though. I often find myself just glancing at the settee which was Ju’s favorite seat and remembering her there.
It’s funny how furniture has one way or another become a family tradition for you and I like it’s latest quirky incarnation. I’ll bet your Mom would have too. It’s certainly carrying on in her footsteps.
xxx Enormous Hugs to you xxx
My daughter is so much like my mother, David. The loving way she is with her children, the creative way she takes common things and makes them so special. You’re right; if my mother could see the Picasso chairs Molly painted for us, she would probably think she had painted them herself. Chairs really do evoke memories and strong emotions. The settee that was Ju’s favorite will always be a wonderful reminder for you.
Thanks for you enormous hugs!
Julia, your dish-towels-tying-you-to-the-chair memories could have taken place at my mother’s dining room table! She would have loved having you share a meal with her.
When I think of her knitting a baby blanket, writing in a notebook, or having a cup of tea with a friend, I also see the chairs where she sat, and the windows near where they were placed for the best light. It’s all part of my memories of her before Dad’s Alzheimers and her dementia, and I’m very grateful for those memories. And your sweet comments, too. Thank you.
A splendid tribute to chairs. The Picasso chairs are a fantastic idea. I particularly enjoyed the quote ‘It takes a long time to grow young’. Chairs are significant. My mum and dad had their own armchairs. After dad died mum often looked at his chair which was surrounded by tiny black burn marks where his pipe tobacco had dropped to the floor. He had a puff whilst watching the news on TV but usually fell asleep with his pipe still lit. Long may your mum enjoy her lounger.
Thanks, Andrew. She has a purple fleecy throw cover she can snuggle under as she naps in her lounger or talks to her caregiver, and she seems quite content and calm to spend most of her time there.
The image of the tiny black burn marks from your dad’s pipe tobacco makes me smile. A college friend had a dad who left the same tobacco marks around his chair, and nothing irritated her mother more, but after he died, she wouldn’t let anyone talk her into replacing the chair or the carpet with the marks. She said they reminded her of him reading interesting things from the newspaper to her, or just discussing his day with her, and those were good memories.
I loved the pictures of your mum. She looks so happy and comfortable in her favorite chairs. I specially liked the quilt with such lovely colors. Thanks for the post Marylin. Sure chairs bring back sweet memories of life. Take care and God bless.
Thank you so much, Samina! That quilt has to be close to 85 years old, hand stitched by my mother’s mother and we think also a great aunt, too. Lots of love in that quilt, and nice to cuddle beneath and feel those stitches and see the pattern. I like to think that quilts, like favorite chairs, have special, happy memories, and Mom senses this.
Immensely interesting post about chairs in connection with family memories and sharing of gorgeous pictures. Thank you so much for this post, Marylin. I enjoyed it very much.
Cheerio, Auntyuta 🙂
And cheerio to you, too, Auntyuta! As I looked around at Mom’s favorite chairs I remembered so many things. And as I look at the chairs in my home that are important to me, even more memories come to life, so I realized there had to be a connection.
Gorgeous porch chairs. It is fascinating how chairs make memories. I can recall the chairs that my grandparents sat in and where they sat in a particular room. I used to groan a little about having to sit in small chairs at meet the teacher evenings, but, in truth, those little chairs still felt comfortable and just right!
This is so much fun for me, Gallivanta, learning the memories that others also connect to chairs. During my 30 years of teaching high school, I remember so many parent-teacher meetings. When they were held in the classrooms rather than the teachers’ offices, then the parents sat in the student desks to talk, and usually I’d sit in a student desk, too. It gave us a better perspective of the students, and sometimes that really helped.
Perhaps we should change the expression “Walk a mile in another man’s shoes’ to ‘sit awhile in another person’s chair.”
THAT is a great motto, Gallivanta! “Sit awhile in another person’s chair.” But it would be interesting to see how it played out in a classroom. Students sometimes get so very possessive about “their” desks/seats, and they can give others a hard time if they sit in the wrong place.
Not only students! People in church get very possessive about their pews! I guess we would all have to ask very politely if the chair owner would mind letting us take a turn.
The Picasso chairs are fabulous, Marylin! The creativity is endless in your family.
Remember the bean bag chair of the 1970’s? I’ll never forget the thrill my sister and I had at the sight of two red bean bags under the Christmas tree. We spent hours lounging in those chairs and watching the old Gidget and Tammy movies. 🙂
I do remember bean bags, Jill! Your account of red bean bags under the Christmas tree is so vivid, and the detail of watching the old Gidget and Tammy movies really makes it a full memory!
What fun yellow chairs and such a unique gift! Chairs…a great topic today. I have a slight “thing” for chairs. I am always dragging them home. It started with wanting a chair for flowers in the yard. Then some flower chairs for the deck. Now they dot the corners of my home. Hubby shakes his head. Recently I got a local church interested in painting chairs and auctioning them this fall to raise money for a charity. My favorite chairs are a pair of oak chairs from my first grade classroom that my dad got me when my grade school was “modernizing” years ago.
I remember your post about the chairs for the flowers, Claudia. I have a child-size school chair on our deck, holding a plant between two adults-size chairs. Your idea about painting chairs and auctioning them this fall to raise money for charity is a terrific plan. I saw a painted straight-back wooden chair with favorite scripture verses about peace and hope written on different places all over it and then sealed with a clear-coat. It was in a collectibles shop with a hefty price tag of $200, and the owner said each time she sells one the painter makes another to take its place. Let me know how yours do at the church auction.
Chairs indeed can be the ‘seat’ of wonderful memories. My grandma rocked me to sleep in her chair until I was five. I hated naps and so my mom always gave up trying. But I would agree to take a nap for my grandma if she would rock me while telling me a story from her childhood. I still remember three of those beloved stories in great detail because I requested them again and again. That chair has gone somewhere. I don’t think any relatives have it. I wish I had that chair.
I wish we had it, too, honey. Those are good memories. It makes me miss the upholstered swivel rocker we finally gave to Goodwill. The grandbabies cuddled up against you and fell asleep, calm and quiet. Now I miss that old chair and wish we’d kept it!
I love your Picasso chairs. Over the last two weeks I have been helping our first years (age 11-12) create papier mache plates onto which they are painting their own Picasso style interpretation of themselves. It’s been such fun!
Picasso art is so much fun, Jenny. That’s a great activity for students. And there are many interesting Picasso quotes they could choose from to add to their art, too…or make up their own quotes.
The retro step stool – such fond memories! I don’t think I could walk past one in a consignment shop without purchasing it. Such beautiful memories of your mother, Marylin. I just fall in love with her gentle spirit over and over again when I read your posts. Have a wonderful weekend my friend! XO
When I think of my mother’s step stool, Robyn, it needs one thing: a young child, giggling as Mom gently tied the dish towel around his/her tummy to prevent toppling off the stool. Whenever we had young guests, Mom made biscuits to go with the meal, with plenty of butter and honey or jelly to smear on the biscuits; and she kept special jelly jars just right for child-size hands to lift the juice or mile to drink. Those were fun times.
You have a wonderful weekend, too, dear friend.
Love the chairs Marylin and the beautiful story around them. Your mother is a blessing that you keep giving to us – thank you for sharing your cherished stories.
Thank you, Mary. Thank you for encouraging me to keep sharing my mom’s stories!
I LOVE those chairs Molly made! Fabulous!!
My auntie Mae had a stool just like that one; I used to sit on it whenever I ate at her house, which I did as often as I could because she was a great cook and an even greater cookie-baker.
Your essay is beautiful. This is such a wonderful way to pay tribute to your mother, and the keep the memory of her wonderfulness alive. I’m so glad you’re taking the time to do this. Every week you inspire me to be more joyful and more grateful.
I’m still laughing that so many remember sitting on the step-stool…and loving it! Maybe the best, most child-friendly cooks had these step-stools because they were versatile for stepping up to reach things on top shelves, but also because children had such a good time sitting up high enough to participate, without being in a high chair.
Molly creates wonderful homemade gifts for family, Tracy, but these chairs are amazing and so much fun. Our neighbor said they might just disappear off our porch and suddenly appear on hers. We might have to chair them to the railing.
I get the feeling Molly will end up making some for her own porch and family.
If she had the time and inclination, she could make a dozen of them and sell them at a quirky artsy flea market. They are SO cool!
She does have the inclination–Molly really enjoys doing creative projects–but unfortunately, she doesn’t have the time. You know how it is when you’re young, working and struggling to kee hearth and home going. Plus, she’d have to find more of the metal chairs that were popular decades ago, and it took a lot of searching to find these!
She’ll love your suggestion and your praise, Tracy.
I’m glad to see that creativity and art appreciation is generational in your family.
Thank you, Eric. Mom and I, and now my daughter and I, too, have fun creating new things, and finding quotes by artists and imitating styles is actually the icing on the cake. Already Molly’s daughter is starting to participate, too, and having a 10-year-old involved makes it VERY creative.
All of it is a tribute to my mother and her lifetime of creativity.
What would we do without chairs. There are many chairs I remember along the road of my life, Marylin The memory of each chair provides feelings of comfort and homeliness. Strange, two days ago a new chair which Jane bought for me arrived and I’m absolutely loving it. It’s an extremely comfortable recliner. I’m watching the soccer world cup in it and it is the most comfortable world cup I.ve ever watched. 🙂
I’ve never loved a comfortable chair without looking back later and realizing that it wasn’t just the comfort that I remember, Don. It’s also the memories that made it wonderful: sitting there and talking on the phone, hearing important news or secrets; reading a book that I couldn’t put down; watching TV and tossing popcorn on my brother. Chairs are filled with crumbs, pet hair, stains…and memories!
So true. Love what you say here. You’ve got soul Marylin. 🙂
Thank you, Don. That makes my day!
Anyone who doesn’t well up when they read this is someone I don’t need to know!
Marilyn, this was really beautiful! I’m especially touched by the pics of your mother surrounded by generational love. Your blog never fails to amaze me.
Oh, that’s so sweet, Karen. Thank you.
Who would have thought that the humble chair would have such a rich history? Great memories and I love the creation of the Picasso chairs, which shows the ongoing legacy of creativity in your family.
Thanks, Andrea. My daughter Molly was one of the many children who was dish-towel-tied to the step-chair, and she loved it. And she and my mom had great times creating all kinds of things in the kitchen, the garden, and with beads and buttons. I wish my mother could see these chairs and make the connection that her granddaughter is carrying on the tradition of creativity she learned with her grandmother!
I love the “Picasso” chairs, Marylin – how incredibly creative (and these will also bring back wonderful memories in the future). Looking at chairs is a unique way of looking at memories and I haven’t come across it before. You’ve reminded me that whenever I visit my sister’s house I see my father’s chair in her sitting room. He passed several years ago but I swear I can still sense him sitting there xxxx
You know, Dianne, that’s how I feel about the rocking chair that now sits in the corner of my mom’s living room apartment at the assisted living. She doesn’t recognize it, but I remember that she and her mother (my grandmother) both rocked babies in that chair. I remember the humming and soft singing they both used to comfort and lull the babies to sleep.
Chairs are BIG memory makers.
What wonderful stimulation to remember chairs we’ve known and loved!
Thanks, Nancy. “Chairs We Have Known and Loved” would make a great book of essays with pictures, don’t you think? 😉
I never thought of chairs as a history record, Marylin! I, too, love a painted chair – as a matter of fact I’ve got a whole Pinterest board on just that. Ideas I MAY get to some day! Also had to chuckle at Jill’s reminder of the bean bag chairs – I received my lemon-yellow one the year I tried to talk my mom into painting my bedroom that color. She informed me a “splash of color” worked better. Loved that chair! But I’m pretty sure I would have been OK with bright yellow walls, too!
Shel, I did paint my entire bedroom yellow…with paint I found on sale (I wonder why). And I also made curtains out of a huge pink peony and yellow mum patter (fabric on sale at Kress’s). It was the summer before my sophomore year in high school, and I loved the effect. My mom applauded my gift for creating a happy room. But when I went to college, she immediately had it papered in a calm blue and had lacey white curtains hung over the windows…
I enjoyed your fun facts for the 4th very much, Shel. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’ve tried twice to post a comment, and neither went through.
Mom, I am tickled pink (yellow) that you included your Picasso chairs in the blog and that it sparked such a wonderful blog this week. The babies (Grace and Gannon) definitely had a great time creating them, and I love how they look on your porch! Happy Anniversary – again!
See what a wonderful “daughter and her daughter and son” creative team our family has!!! So many things you make, Molly, could be sold in shops or put on consignment. With your hectic work and family schedule, Dad and I always feel so honored to receive your creations.
Love you lots, Mookie!
I can certainly understand why you’re proud of your daughter and grandchildren, Marylin – if “Mookie’s” note is any indication, you have clearly passed on your gracious spirit to the next generation(s)! Sounds like a fun group to be around. Couldn’t help but notice that the Picasso Chairs certainly got the loudest ‘shout out’ in the comments!
Ah, thank you, Shel. It is a fun group, and when we’re all together nothing is better! Molly’s creations getting the loudest “shout out” in the comments makes me so proud…and it tickles her. It keeps her young and active with her own children to create “art.”
I love those yellow Picasso chairs. They make me smile. I bought one of those step stool chairs because – at 5’5″ – I need an assist every once in a while. Your Mom’s quilt look like a larger version of one my aunt made when I was expecting our first-born. Give me that quilt and a rocking chair and I might look as comfy as your Mom.
Hope you had a wonderful July 4th, Marilyn.
Both the Picasso patio chairs and the step stool will be with me forever, Judy. The Picassos because I love them so much and they make me smile; the step stool because as I get older, I know not to pull out a regular chair and climb on it to reach high cabinets.
Some of my happiest moments were sitting in a rocking chair and cuddling babies, and homemade quilts remind me of the talented and loving women in my family who create enduring memories.
When ever I see chairs that suggest more than just function am reminded of Old Blue Chair by Kenny Chesney. I know for fact I’ll be playing once finished commenting.
These ‘t h i n g s’ of everyday practicality (and it varies from person, families and cultures) over time become extensions of those who used them. And in some cultures the soul remains in the object when the individual passes on. And all those lines, we say it is to retain the memory, but I think, if we’re being honest, there is a deeper reason -they help us tell the stories of our own lives. -just like eyes, our nose shapes, hair colur, speech patterns -those features inherited from our parents and even further back is brought forward for generations.
And those Picasso Chairs, why those are the best chairs I think I have ever seen (winks) and that probably doesn’t come close to how you express their value. Priceless just like the quilt that comforts your mother.
You state it eloquently: the soul remains in the object, and our memories enable us to tell the stories of our lives. I especially believe that we inherit more than DNA from our ancestors, but also the truths of their lives and visions and creativity, and all of it comes alive in us through the stories they’ve told and the creative things they leave behind.
The Picasso chairs keep me smiling–sometimes laughing out loud–and what better tribute to their creator!?!
Chairs do hold so many family memories don’t they? My granny had a favourite one that my mum now has in her living room and I love sitting in it! I love your daughter’s flair for painting metal chairs Marylin, and with the Picasso quotes too, a wonderful keepsake family gift, so unique. So sweet too that your mom goes out in your dad’s old wheelchair, I was really touched when I read that…such sweet photos 🙂
Your posts always remind me of what is most important in life and of the value of the joy in the every day. My family memories would be most connected to our sectional we had when the kids were young, and all through their growing up years. It had a pull out sofa bed that I used to have ‘sleepovers’ on with the two youngest when it was just us three at home and at the other end was a recliner for their father. That piece of furniture was sat in, slept on, climbed on, eaten on and even thrown-up on over the ten years we had it. When we finally got rid of it when it was beyond repair it was the end of an era in more ways than one.
I love the Stephen King quote, and so true. Nothing beats pulling up a chair and having laughter land square in the middle of it and stay for as long as it likes, when family and friends are gathered together, just being together…
But the line that moved me so much was when you write that although your mom doesn’t remember sitting in the large chair reading to her great-grandchildren, the children do…and that my friend is what it’s all about. Beautifully written post Marylin, thank you.
When you shared about the pull-out sofa where you had sleepovers when your children were young, Sherri, I wondered if that was in the house where you had the truly disturbed and dangerous neighbor next door.
When we remember those times in our childhood when we were frightened or worried, I think we also remember the objects in our homes–and the gestures of our parents and others–that helped us during that time.
Stephen King’s quote is so much more personal, laughing and grateful than many expect him to be because of his writing. But that quote says volumes to me about him as a father and husband and friend rather than as a horror writer.
And it’s so true; some of my vivid memories of childhood are connected to chairs–around the dining room table, out in the hall at school, in the waiting room of the doctor’s office, sitting next to my mom as she taught me to sew, etc.–chairs evoke memories, that’s for sure. Thanks for sharing your chair memories, Sherri.
You are so amazingly perceptive Marylin. As it happens, yes, we first bought that pull-out sofa set in THAT house and then took it with us when we moved it with us for the next 10 years. I actually do remember now that you remind me that when I was cuddled up on it with the kids I felt that we were really safe…this is an amazing memory.
You are so right about Stephen King, his quotes really don’t resonate with his horror writing persona do they?
So many chairs…I feel the same way about dining tables and chairs, in fact I wrote a piece a few years ago called The Dining Table now that I think of it! I’m sure it was rubbish but maybe I should take another look and rewrite it! You see Marylin, I can never come over here and leave without your inspiration to create something new…and all because of your wonderful chair memories! Hugs… 🙂
Oh, I doubt anything you wrote, even years ago, is rubbish. Sherri, you have a knack of telling stories that resonate on many layers. I was recalling the “house of horrors” that you fixed up and improved and should have embraced as a happy home…except for the crazy neighbor. I’ve thought of that post often.
If I inspire you to create something new, then we’re BOTH on the right track!
Love the Picasso chairs~ your daughter did a great job. I still recall your story of your mom wrapped in her mother’s quilt. Heart-warming. -Renee
Thank you, Renee. I brought it back from the “Girl Cousins” reunion when they decided Mom should have this wonderful quilt. All the memories that went into the making of it, the women talking and laughing and helping each other. I wish Mom’s dementia would fall away so she could remember the stories of the quilt that covers her now.
The quilt remembers. Family remembers. Hopefully a time comes soon for unlocking the mystery so folks like your mom can remember. I pray.
Thank you, Renee. That’s my prayer as well.
Love the Picasso chairs. What a lovely way to celebrate your family! Hand-painted or handmade gifts are the best, aren’t they?
They are, L. Marie, definitely. Even the drawings and finger-painted pictures made by our grandchildren are the best possible gifts; we keep them in folders, and some day they’ll see them and remember who they were, right then, at the moment they created these treasures.
I like the way you featured a variety of chairs, especially loved the artistry of your daughter’s Picasso chairs and your mother in her pink and white afghan in her chair. I love the memory of my Grandmother Mattson, who was of German descent, holding me in her big oak rocking chair, singing songs that I didn’t know the words to; then or now! This was lovely reading other’s stories, too. Smiles, Robin
Oops, I just looked again at your mother’s photograph, it holds a beautiful quilt handmade by her own mother. Sorry, I have short attention span, but the image of her wrapped in a special blanket, resonated with me! Smiles, Robin
And I love how your Grandmother Mattson held you in her big rocking chair, singing sons you didn’t know the words to, then or now! Robin, that’s a beautiful confirmation that loving arms around children cross all language barriers!
It is a perfect quilt, Robin, made by a loving mother many decades earlier and now wrapped around her elderly daughter who surely still feels the love sewn into every quilt piece.
Thank you for these kind words, you are so correct, Marylin! Loving arms cross all language barriers! I like how you mentioned that you mother is wrapped with a perfect quilt, one that has love ‘sewn into every quilt piece!’ Such a wonderful way of putting this together in the choices of words!
Thanks, Robin. Loving arms do cross all language barriers, and for me, chairs are a tangible expression of loving arms.
Hi Marylin, such beautiful memories of your mother and weaved into a great subject- chairs! My grandmother had one of those tall functional step chairs too, and I think it was red.
I am drawn to antique wood chairs and have five (plus one that is broke beyond repair) in my kitchen around my table. They have an ornate design at the top and spindles as part of the back, then a square of cane for the seat. They are so special. I bought them years ago from one of my Tupperware hostesses; they belonged to her grandmother and I wanted them so bad. Thankfully she let me make payments to buy them.
Thank you for a lovely post! xo Joanne
You’re so welcome, Joanne, and thank you for sharing your special stories. I’m amazed that so many of us have memories of those tall step chairs in all our mothers’ and grandmothers’ kitchens.
And, like you, I would have gladly made payments to buy antique wood chairs with ornate designs at the top and on the spindles.
I especially love your use of details, Joanne, the wonderful “tell-alls” like the Tupperware hostess whose grandmother had owned the chairs. That’s such a retro image…so much fun!
I love your story and the chairs. I tried to buy my 91 year old mom a new recliner but she wouldn’t let go of the old one.
Oh, I certainly understand that! For two years I’ve wanted to replace Mom’s recliner, but no, absolutely not! It’s rich with familiar smells and little ridges made by her body that allow her to snuggle in and be content.
So the old recliner stays, and actually, as long as she’s happy with it, that’s all that really matters.
Your so right, I have to remind myself of that.
Love the Picasso chairs 🙂
Thanks, Elizabeth. I do, too. And I have a feeling that years from now the grandchildren will want to keep them!
Happy Anniversary Marylin! Love the “Picasso” chairs that your daughter and grandchildren created. You are so deservedly blessed to have such a creative, loving family.
Totally agree that cherished handmade, or hand-finished, items can hold precious memories. And, hand-finished chairs are just the BEST! It would be simply perfect to pull up such memory-filled chairs to the dessert table in heaven… someday. 😉 😉
Theresa, I’m still smiling at your colorful, vivid photograph of Kansas City lights and fireworks on the 4th of July. Your photography creates precious memories and ranks up there with the best of the photographer’s eye creations. We each create things worth keeping, and hold them close to her hearts and memories.
You pick the very best images/metaphors to recall memories. Love all of them. Of course, I remember the retro kitchen chair with the unfolding steps; we had one too. The Picasso chair reminds me of a Van Gogh-ish chair painted various shades of blue by son Joel that sits in my sewing room where I never sew anymore. WIth no windows, it’s a photo-shoot space now.
You are so blessed: A mother who writes (has written) and a daughter who imagines Picasso-like chairs. By the way, I do not receive instant email notifications of your post. Thus, I am either tardy or miss posts. I will have to go into my WP reader and see what can be done. I don’t like to miss a one! Stellar post, Marylin.
Thank you so very much, Marian. You say the kindest things, and I enjoy your perceptions of the dynamics of our multi-generational family. Like your son, Joel, I’m painting my own Van Gogh-ish chair in those wonderful shades of blue.
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Happy Anniversary Marylin and I love your gifted chairs…what a wonderful thread your story holds.. ❤
Jim and I love these chairs, Jane. They were a delightful anniversary gift that will undoubtedly be passed back to the grandchildren at their engagement parties or for their first homes…though both are MANY years away.