We were without a coffee table for the first eight months we lived in Sea Cliff. It wasn't horrible visually, but it made reading so uncomfortable. No table on which to rest our feet!
This was a problem you had insisted on solving, many years ago.
When you and Mom added on the back sun room (along with the deck and the pool), you had one single requirement for that room, and you were absolutely resolute in this requirement. What was it? This thing that was making Mom sweat? A recliner. Yes, just a chair. Admittedly, kind of a big one, and a little ugly.
You and Mom had to go to La-z-Boy and pick it out. She essentially admitted later that you got "by far the least ugly possible option." She slipcovered it in navy blue damask, and it went into the corner in the sunroom. That was when I was thirteen.
It's been re-slipcovered a few times since then, but that chair has been a fixture in the house for over two decades. Many were the times when I jumped into that chair and reclined with a book, and when you came into the room and were ready to relax, you'd clear your throat and give me a look.
You were not a scary man, but there was no arguing with you over the recliner. That, along with golf, afternoon naps, and a Saturday martini, was a part of who you were. If I started to stall, you'd say: "Nice try Megs. Now get up."
And the truth is, we still all tussle over it when we're home. In the evenings sometimes, Marc sits and reads in your chair. And maybe you were onto something. Because I've since gotten a coffee table, but I'm still not as comfortable as you were for all these years in your chair. I'm glad you had it for so long, and I'm glad it worked like a homing beacon for you. When I have more space, maybe I will try to find a less ugly recliner, too.
xx
M
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