This was my Oh-So-Wise-Dad’s desk. He had wanted his own dad’s rolltop, but a brother spoke up sooner. So, a brother-in-law found this one as a replacement, and it served Dad well. He was a farmer, and from this desk he paid many bills, made phone calls, sat and thought and probably prayed quite a bit and sometimes even dispensed fatherly advice.
Dad used a manual Smith-Corona typewriter and a hand-crank adding machine at this desk. (I declined both of those items on the basis of one of my guiding principles in life: The More Stuff You Own, The More Stuff Breaks.) He didn’t type very often, but wrote by hand in all capital letters. He liked to write, and in retrospect, I have decided that words were his art form.
One of the many benefits of getting the desk (which neither of my sisters were interested in, thank goodness!) was that we got rid of a filing cabinet and 4-5 bags of papers! (Another guiding principle in my life is this: If You Can, Get Rid Of It!)
Now the desk is in my house, and its very presence is reassuring. The massive size, the memories, the timelessness of this piece of furniture actually caused me to sit and HANDWRITE SOME LETTERS!! Really! I ignored the clicky noises of my computer behind me and used a pen and paper!
I wonder if this desk will help me be a better artist. . .
3 Comments
Ruth, I am SURE Dad called you from that desk more times than I ever knew about (as in “whatever is the matter with that girl??”) Thank you so much for your kind words about him – did you notice his photo on top of the desk?
Marjie, thank you for sharing your Dad’s desk story with me. Thankfully, this desk came to me without all the papers. It didn’t come with a citrus grove, either, but it did come with a pile of memores. And I’d love to hear your ideas for art pertaining to citrus, but I never work in watercolor. Someone sent me a quote today that confirms why not: “Painting in watercolor is like walking a tight-rope; one must achieve a perfect balance between what the paint wants to do and what the artist wants to do, or all is lost.” (Mary C. Taylor, whoever she is!)
Jana: Your Dad’s desk reminded me of my Dad, a farmer too. When he died I inherited his desk (a sturdy, blonde wood piece with a safe inside) plus all the cancelled checks, invoices, receipts, and every other kind of paperwork you can imagine, going back to the fifties! He never threw away anything. It has taken me several years of off-and-on work to go through everything, and while it became tedious at times, it also gave me a glimpse of what happened all those years on our farm and insight into what a good farmer he was. I have finally finished all the shredding of unneeded documents and just have a few left to sort through and decide what to keep. My mother and dad left my sister and me a wonderful legacy of our citrus ranch and the wonderful life they gave us. Marjie
P.S. Do you ever work in watercolors? That is my favorite medium, and I have a couple of ideas for artwork I would like to have someday (when orange prices are a little better!)
Jana, what a treat to see your Dad’s handsome desk and chair… and read your story about it! Wonder if he ever called Ron up at camp from his desk? We surely loved your Dad, he was a prince of a man! Thanks for sharing your words of wisdom, I should print up the one about getting rid of stuff and put it someplace where I can see it every day! Your two new oil paintings at top of site are marvelous… wish we were there! Love and blessings to you! RnR
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