Though Dad and I disagreed about many things, I didn’t about his assessment of my Uncle Richard, who still lives in Norwich, my hometown.
For example, when Dad told me to get a haircut, or a job, or my own car or fridge or apartment, I think I said something that loosely translated meant ‘in my own sweet time, man.’
But when I saw one of Richard’s oak and dogwood chairs a few years ago I bought one without hesitation.
[He set his mind and collected dogwood, and built his own steamer in which to heat the wood and wooden jigs to bend them appropriately - without a plan or diagram to go by.]
["A slab of mulberry and small pieces of cedar": GAH photos]
The chair now sits comfortably on the wee front porch, between my own chairs, and once I frame a slab of mulberry as wall art, with slices of aromatic cedar as an extra touch, the porch will become an even more enjoyable spot to relax.
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Do you have a favourite chair? Any family history attached?
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