Summary

Carolyn, a psychology major, recounts her childhood love for a Queen Anne chair, which she eventually purchased at a discounted price despite financial constraints.

Abstract

The narrative describes Carolyn's early introduction to independence when she opts to buy chairs instead of candy with her first dollar. It focuses on her deep affection for a specific Queen Anne chair that she encountered daily while working at a department store restaurant. Despite the chair's steep price and her limited budget as a student, Carolyn's desire for the chair never waned. When the chair was marked down, she seized the opportunity to make it hers, symbolizing a significant personal milestone. The chair, now worn with time, remains a cherished possession, representing resilience and shared history.

Opinions

Carolyn's internal dialogue reflects a conflict between her practical side, aware of financial limitations, and her emotional desire for the chair.
The author implies a sense of pride and accomplishment in Carolyn's ability to afford the chair despite her family's economic struggles.
The salesclerk's anticipation of Carolyn's interest in the chair suggests a shared understanding and empathy for her longing.
The narrative conveys a sense of loss and nostalgia for the 94 Acre Woods, which was partially destroyed to build the mall where the chair was located.
The story hints at a broader theme of personal growth and the importance of cherishing meaningful possessions, as evidenced by Carolyn's enduring relationship with the Queen Anne chair.

love

Me and My Queen Anne

Love at first sight

Image by Architect and artist from Pixabay

I was ten years old when my parents allowed me to walk uptown to the general store by myself. Dad expected me to buy bags of candy or a stuffed animal with my dollar. Instead I came home empty handed. He was surprised.

“Nothing caught your eye?” Dad inquired.

“I bought 4 chairs. Can you pick them up? They don’t deliver.”

Dad looked at Mom, “Julianne, we don’t need to worry about this one! Goes off with a dollar and comes back with furniture!”

I have many more chair stories, but this story is about the Queen Anne.

The Queen Anne

The chair was a soft baby blue same as a July sky. It invited me to sit in its luxurious velvet self every day. I did not own this chair. It was in the furniture section just outside the department store restaurant where I worked.

It was the early seventies, each day as I trudged in to earn my quarters I passed by “my chair.”

The salesclerk called out,

“Hey Carolyn, your chair is still here!” “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” I sighed back. “Gees, I wish you could buy it.” “Me too, me too.” I whispered donning my Williamsburg Inn mop cap.

The Jungian Trickster in me asked, ‘Hey Carolyn, why don’t you buy that chair?’ $400.00 that’s why! That’s a lot of coffee, rice and beans, tuition, and tampons, that’s why! snapped my internal Pierceian Pragmatist. (I was a psychology major-can’t ya’ tell!)

Still each day the chair invited me to sit. Once a week I allowed myself to feel like a true blue-blood in my beautiful Queen Anne Chair. Forgetting for those brief moments that I was a struggling Psych Major.

Every penny I earned went to school and keeping the family from drowning. No money for my Queen Anne.

Dad passed away from a sudden heart attack when I was 12. Mom had a hard time getting hired at age 50. So we kids all went to work. No one ever told me about scholarships or financial aid. I guess my high school counselors and teachers thought I wasn’t worth wasting their breath on.

One super muggy, hot, Washington, DC day I arrived at work praying that no sweaty, over-lotioned troll had dared to occupy my chair. I rounded the corner and saw my blue chair wearing a red sticker.

“Oh God? NO. They’ve sold my chair.”

I moaned and walked over to say good-bye. The salesclerk smiled. He was waiting for me,

“It’s 30% off! With your discount, that is 50% off.”

I could invite this chair into my life this day? I could grow up this day? I could buy an expensive, well made, beautiful piece of furniture this day? I can have it delivered?

I can have it!

The salesclerk handed me the order already filled out. He knew. I beamed. As I entered the restaurant I was greeted by a smiling chorus of co-workers,

“Hey Carolyn, ya buy that chair?”

I beamed.

I will always have that chair, now faded blue, torn, smudged by time and grime.

My beautiful Queen Anne waits for me to dress her in the finest velvet once again. We’ve been through a hell of a lot that chair and me over the last 40 years. We’re both scarred, and a little worse for the wear but we’ve survived.

If you are in a super heady mood-read more about the Jung/Pierce tensions https://journals.openedition.org/ejpap/1005

Thanks as always for reading! This story took place in the shopping mall next to my neighborhood. The Mall developers tore down a significant chunk of the 94 acre woods that surrounded my neighborhood. Check out my list The 94 Acre Woods for more tales of my youth.