MENDING CHAIR

  Poet Robert Frost called his creation Mending Wall, and it was among the many poems of his that I love. But when I was thinking about this week's article, I came upon something that borrowed his line of thought: our bedroom chair! There is nothing particularly special about it. It is what dealers would call a "cricket chair" because of its carved legs and upright back. My mother said it had been her bedroom chair when she was a child, but it found its way into my household many years ago. The bottom fabric was badly torn, so I replaced it with some fabric that I had around the house. Then I made a new seat cushion and back cushion in fabrics that coordinated with the room where I put it. That was an easy job, and the result was satisfactory. When we moved to our present home, it came to rest in the master bedroom, and soon became the place where everything that "needed something done" got tossed.

What "needed to be done" had many possibilities. If the dryer had eaten a button, the spare could be taken off the bottom of a good quality shirt and sewn back on. If there was no spare button, one could be scavenged from the sewing desk and matched up with the originals. If there was a really terrible stain, the piece would go back to the washer and be treated with "Shout"™ and re-washed. Anything that was ripped, torn, or otherwise mangled demanded a special treatment called "mending". When my husband found a sock that had a hole worn through the bottom, he tossed it into the trash. This horrified me, and I immediately stopped him saying "I'll mend that", to which he jeeringly replied "When do you ever mend anything?" I caught my return remark on the end of my tongue as I realized that MEN DON'T MEND THINGS. THEY THROW THEM OUT AND BUY NEW ONES. So I retrieved the poor sock from the waste basket and tossed it on the pile of clothes and other cloth items on what came to be called the "Mending Chair".

Several years ago my husband came across an ad for sheets at a low price. We lived in our previous home for 20 years and the bed linens were really worn out. So naturally I was interested in replacing them without spending a fortune. I ordered a total of six sheets in our bed size hoping that they would fit the extra thick mattress we had bought to replace the old one (which had come to bear a striking resemblance to the Grand Canyon). The sheets were delivered in a huge carton in record time, making me wonder if that was because they were such a popular item or the seller was skipping town. Anyhow, I eagerly made the bed using the new sheets. I was relieved to see that they fit our mattress. This job was repeated for all six sheets, white, cream, and light blue. Then I began rotating the colors and re-making the bed. Pulling the fitted corners was a challenge, but as I came around the sides in my wheelchair, I discovered to my horror that the elastic that was fitting the sides had ripped through the cloth "tubing" and was hanging loosely down the side of the bed. What happened? These were NEW sheets! Don't tell me that I have to sew them! Well, not today. I'll just toss it over on the bedroom chair until I can get to my sewing machine.

While I was there I looked at other things I had tossed on that chair "until I could mend them". The pile included:

  • A sweatshirt with cuffs that had been either chewed or shredded to the point of uselessness
  • A T-shirt from my husband's early membership in the club made up of CNE's (Certified Novell Engineers) that was badly torn
  • Cushions from the rocking chair that had been scratched by a cat claw
  • Jeans that had also been scratched to the point of ripping across the entire leg
  • A "onesie" baby garment purchased to put on Skittles to protect the areas where he had cysts removed
  • Beach towels that had been used in the bathroom and were torn, frayed, or had holes
  • My husband's socks that had holes in them
  • A stuffed toy frog that my husband brought home for me and named "Phynnias T. Frog" that needed no mending but needed a home since I can no longer stand to reach the tops of anything

    People might think that we lived a violent life, but that is not the case. We simply have had a lifetime's worth of pets and kids that have put their mark on what we own. As a result, things need repairing. My husband and I have done our share of causing things to rip or become stained as well. All that means is that the sewing machine foot attachment will have to be better secured so that I can get busy on these chores. When I get the mending chair down to the seat again I can go into the sewing room and take out the things in there that need fixing as well. My daughter had a small table at her home and I borrowed it to begin sorting out the piles of mending pushed into the "extra room". Will this job ever end? Or should I just attach an "aMENDment" to this article?

    Just Mom

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