My New Chair

Sadly, or maybe not, there is coming a time in life when I place greater value on comfort than on excitement…or the adrenalin rush of physical activity. Yes, I still have endorphins – they’re perhaps a little slower in their transit through my system and seem to be activated more by stopping than starting. But, what the hell, an endorphin is and endorphin any way you cut it. I’ve got plenty and I feel great!

Last week I was reminded, quite by accident, of this wonderful aspect of aging. I found a symbol of my sanctuary of quiet, slow introspection. My New Chair. I loved this chair – I couldn’t have a better one if I designed and built it myself. How I came posses it is peculiar – a wonderful reminder of the synchronicity that winds through the fabric of our lives.

Andrea and I drove to the store last week. We live on a small island off the mainland of British Columbia. There’s never far to go and there’s not much we haven’t seen.

On the way back home, she said suddenly, “Let’s keep driving for a while. Maybe we’ll find some place we haven’t seen yet.”

“Good idea.” I felt her intuition was saying something. This is one of her many abilities for which I have great respect.

So we kept driving, past our home and on down the main road that serves this island. Five or so miles later there was an intersection to the left. I turned and followed a winding road that ended abruptly at the water’s edge. We turned around and headed back – then another intersection we had missed o the way down.

“Turn here,” Andrea said, “turn left.”

Obediently, I swerved to the left and followed this new, undiscovered road stretched out before us. It was narrow but paved and seemed to parallel the coast. There were a number of discrete driveway entrances on one side which we surmised led to expensive waterfront homes – none of which we could see though.

We neared the end after another mile or so and looked for a way back to the main road. It was then we noticed something very strange to the left. Back beyond the narrow shoulder resting comfortably in the high grass was a large, extremely comfortable-looking swivel rocker – the old Lazy Boy with a stick that raises the footrest. It was love at first sight!

I stopped the car, got out and approached it with awe. It was beige and overstuffed with a corduroy-like velour covering. In the seat was a piece of cardboard with the word “Free” hand written in black magic-marker.

I looked at Andrea. She shrugged. “Why not? Why don’t you try it out?”

Slowly I approached it. I had no idea how long it had been there. Perhaps it had sat for weeks on this lonely stretch of road. I carefully looked underneath the rocker for snakes. Nothing. There were a few stains and wear marks – cosmetic really – superficial indicators of wear. I appreciate that.

Gracefully, I lowered myself into its soft seat. It welcomed me with joy and acceptance. It was a perfect fit – we must have been made for each other.

“Andrea, try the chair!” She shook her head smiling with that knowing look, always a good sport.

“We need this for the living room.” I stated with what was hopefully an objective and dispassionate tone.

She agreed with such grace and style.

“Can we get it in the Honda?” she asked.

“Of course.” I said without the slightest idea how. It was a Honda Civic after all. The two of us struggled with this beast – it weighed a ton and just wanted to rotate around – it was a true swivel but not real workable or cooperative to two seniors trying to wrestle it into the trunk. We got a piece of it in – but that was it. Way too much chair for that little car.

As we each held a side of the chair trying to figure out what to do next, a lady in a late model SUV drove by and stopped, leaning out the window. “So you’re going to take the chair?” she stated politely but with a trace of relief.

I nodded with kind of a goofy smile. I felt an irrational urge to tell her I was a college graduate – not some homeless bum scrounging her neighbor’s throw-aways. “Yes” I answered with quiet reservation. “It was free.” I added for no apparent reason.

With only the back of the rocker in the trunk we had no way to get it home. If only we had some rope or a bungi cord….

“Why don’t you use this bungi cord?” Andrea asked. She had miraculously found one inside. I secured it and the chair was secured to the car - although somewhat precariously. I was about to leave gently taking our newly prized possession to its new home when Andrea said, “Wait!”

She jumped back out of the car and found the cardboard free sign. On it’s back she wrote with her ballpoint pen: “Thank you!”

Pure class.

We drove home at about 5 km/hr with a long line of cars behind us by the time we reached our driveway. No one was angry though. They must have realized that we had found a treasure. We were supported by all – especially the Universe. Isn’t strange how, just when you ask, somehow, if the intent is strong, the answer is right there.

I love my new chair.