I'm sure this room will look much better photographed in daylight, but I'm pleased there's one room in my apartment I can call genuinely clean.* Everything is shiny and freshly scrubbed.
On the extreme left, you can see the pew my great-uncle Homer built for the church the family attended up in the hills in Arkansas. A few years back, the church was building a new structure and getting rid of the appointments from the old, and my mom snagged a pew each for me and my siblings. It's a lovely and warm reminder of him. He died way too young, just in 50s, I believe, and he was really a character. Last time I went to see her, Aunt Geneva was telling me about that week in the 1970s when Homer cut off part of his finger in his carpentry work, and then later the same week, she cut off the tip of her finger working on a machine making biscuit cans at a factory in Memphis. Her bosses said she needed to go to the doctor and she said "well, I guess so" and she drove herself to the doctor, and she said she and the doctor were laughing up a storm at how silly it was that she and Homer each cut off a finger tip in the same week. Uncle Homer fought in WWII, and the photos of him in his uniform and Geneva in her smart outfits look so warm and evocative of the best of 20th century America. It's delightful and instructive to think of folks who don't sit around lamenting a small thing they've lost, but see that as merely a part of life and not something to be given the energy it would require to grieve over anything.
It feels like having a part of the family history here to have this lovely pew Homer built, and one that must have accommodated the posterior of scores of folk related to me.
Once in church when I was maybe 5 or 6 I was fidgeting, I suppose, and dad reached around mom's shoulder and grabbed my ear and gave it the most ferocious pinch, it seemed at the time. I sobbed quietly the remainder of the service, but I didn't fidget. I wonder if we were sitting on this very pew? I must make a point to sit there sometime and fidget madly and defy anyone to pinch my ear. But that's the kind of hairpin I am.
It feels like progress on organizing my apartment has been extraordinarily slow. I've taken loads and loads of stuff to Goodwill, and there's still more to be sorted.
Gun show this weekend, and shooty goodness on Sunday. WOOHOO!
*if you don't look too closely at the floor