(On South Street in Philly. Photo by Robin. July 2007)
I dunno…
I doubt I’d be a great leader. Or even a terribly good leader. But I’d change a few things while I had the chance.
The Salvation Army guys came by around noon today. It was pretty obvious from the very beginning that the lazy gits were determined to walk out of here without moving one bit of furniture.
I would have turned down the sofa and wingback chair, too. Can’t fault them for that. But I would’ve taken the kitchen table and chairs, the desk, the dresser with mirror, and the TV trays. In point of fact, I’d take those things home with me if I could.
I’d paint the kitchen table and chairs. I might even try my hand at some artwork on the table since I’d have nothing to lose. Messed it up? Paint over it again. I could use the table for my artwork. Extra chairs always come in handy.
I’d refinish the top of the desk. The rest is in fine shape and it’s all good, strong, sturdy wood. Then I’d use it as my personal desk because I don’t have one (yet).
I’d refinish the dresser. It’s a good dresser. Large drawers, lots of space, all wood. It has a mirror. The mirror is a little cloudy, but I kind of like it that way. It softens up the face, almost ridding me of fine lines and wrinkles. It’s also a skinny mirror, making me look a little taller and thinner. Not that I overly mind any of those bodily signs of aging. However, I’m not unappreciative of the glow of the mirror, the look back at a younger age.
The wonderful thing about this aged, lived-in, used furniture is that it has held up well. It has strong bones, good structure. It’s sturdy. It’s made to be used, to be lived in and with. It’s not going to fall apart within a few years the way things are often made today.
I wish I could take all of the wood pieces home with me.
But I won’t be taking this stuff home. And from the looks of things, neither will anyone else. The Salvation Army guys were bound and determined not to take anything. We managed to get them out of here with the futon, only because there was not one scratch on it and M offered to help them move it out.
The story we got from the lazy gits is that the Salvation Army only wants high-end, in good shape furniture. They don’t want it if it looks a little lived in.
If I ruled the world, or at the very least the Salvation Army, I’d take all the furniture. I’d give some away, to folks who could use a bit of furniture in their lives, but can’t afford it. Then I’d take the people that go through the Salvation Army rehab center and teach them how to paint and refinish furniture so that the older, more lived-in pieces could be rehabbed while the rehabbed people are being taught a new skill.
Have you ever refinished or rehabbed a piece of furniture? Renovated a house? Put sweat equity into something?
It’s a most rewarding feeling when you finish a job well done. Most rewarding. Time, good work, sweat. These are valuable things.
Oh bloody hell. I’m sounding like an old woman, ain’t I?
I’m sorry all of this furniture will end up in the dumpster. I hope someone will come along and pick it up.
I’m sorry we live in a world where people don’t see the use and potential of things that are aged and used.
They say we live in a culture of youth.
Maybe so.
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