Oct. 23, 2004 - 18:35 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Oddfellow ?

It takes a village to have an idiot. Here's one I guess who is looking for that village.

I was about 16 years old when I first quit school, about as dumb as they come, and went to work.

Of course with the country trying to come out of the depression there wasn't all that much work around.

In many ways I was a somewhat wide eyed innocent, but with an understanding what work behavior should be.

In forays downtown accompanying my Mother on shopping exercises I was witness to her desires for better things. I remember being with her a time or two when she went to a furniture store I believe was called Davis and Shaw to look at fine furniture. There were many such side trips we took to look at good things, rugs, china, silverware and things such as that.

Being a bookish lad there was romance and appreciation in my heart and soul for times spent and sight of those things. I finally found a job, resulting from a "why not" mood. I went in to the finest furniture store in town and applied. The next day I went to work there.

Having yearned over the furniture in the display widows on the street and eyeing the fine stuff on the first floor in going to their office I was ecstatic to start working there.

What a mighty position was given me. "Floor Boy," and the job was varied, mostly sweeping the carpeted aisles on the second floor, which took just a bit of time, and then to lovingly use my furniture polish and soft rags to shine up the wonderful furniture on that floor. Furniture so finely finished that one could seemingly see deep into the grain. Caressing the exotic woods which had been artfully fitted to make something great. Acacia wood was beautiful and crotch mahogany another thing to see, there were many woods and ways to build into furniture that were truly amazing.

Along the way in their spare minutes salesmen would point out to me how good furniture was built, the science of strong construction in well built furniture. It was there I learned just how heavy a Simmons "Fold-a-bed," was as I helped carry them to the elevator to be put on the truck.

And to think I was being paid to be there ! I got my first record player there and began to buy albums of records as I could afford them. One of my first was an album of famous serenades. Then at a drugstore nearby they often had records off juke boxes and I would bring home a bunch of popular music which was cheap enough that I could toss ones I didn't like and still have a plethora.

The second floor of the store spanned the alley and went clear to the street in that direction, in the Nassau building (One of H. A. W. Tabor's properties in gold rush times) In that annex was the solid maple furniture which I lavished labor on all furniture with love and attention. I grew in learning and beginning to know the very best furniture and its construction. Along with that was getting stuff ready to send to customers on the store truck and occasionally wrapping lamps for someone waiting. Testing the lamps to make sure the wiring was right was fun too. Plug it in, turn the switch and judiciously stick a finger in the socket, the tip touching the center contact and the side of the finger touching the side of the socket. If done right all that happened was a slight tingle, which could be increased by more pressure if so desired. I found out once that I dare not do that if my finger was wet.

Later I was transferred to the third floor and learned about bedding. One thing I learned to my great amusement was that each manufacturer's bedspreads had a "Dusty Rose" one, but not one of them was close in color to any other manufacturer's. Guess that is where I became rather cynical about titles of colors. Some of the strangest colors had the most exotic names -- but were so dull.

My job up there was carpets, helping the salesman flip carpets from the pile, or putting the piles back after a salesman was through and gone. Another facet of information satisfaction for me was being around a man who could repair rugs so well that it was impossible to detect it from the face of the carpet. I think his ancestry was Armenian and his family had been in that type of business for perhaps centuries.

Window shades and Venetian blinds were also my area. Finally ordering and keeping track of shades and blinds was my job, as well as rolling up carpets and fastening them to ship out to customers.

A liberal education it was for me in a way. The company artist had his studio up on third floor and I spent a lot of my spare time watching him make pictures for the newspaper ads -- back then the ads were done by artists I believe. I don't remember seeing photos of furniture in newspapers back then. I learned things from him that I will never use, but appreciate yet in seeing others works.

The interior decorator was on third floor too and fairly frequently I was sent as a gofer with him. The fine thing about that was that I learned a tad about placement and what things went together. I saw a few of his touches, such as arranging magazines on a table in an informal way that made the room look used. A pipe by an ashtray if one was to be had, things like that. His decorations were alive and appeared to be in use. I enjoyed learning his touches with decorating to the max too.

There came a chance for me to work in a fruit and produce market at a much higher rate of pay, The market held many businesses. Sidings for boxcars and reefers ran behind each building, I spent much time loading and unloading produce from them. But even yet, I still yearn to be back caring for and polishing good furniture, looking deep into the grain of great wood which had a fine finish applied at the factory. And dreaming strange, fairy tale, knight and ogre dreams.

Heather and I weren't able to buy fine furniture as our kids came up, the press was to feed, clothe and house them. But my Father's furniture came to us and when we moved into a new house after the sale of his house Heather and I did pick up a grand china closet and a few other things to treasure.

On this move we just made, my mother's vanity and mirror went to one of our grandchildren, much earlier my Dad's oak dining room set went to our son Rob who valued it until he died and thence to one of his daughters. Furniture around us may eventually wear out, but otherwise gets passed along to family. The high chair that our first born had after three more of our babies out grew it went to other family members who had littles who needed them. The high chair came back to us on the birth of our youngest and then moved on through the family until it truly fell apart from use.

So its been a good life for me, all around. The appreciation and love and understanding of good things was built in more or less as I grew into maturity, and the love of a good woman and consequent children made things as perfect a life as conditions allow. We had times of difficulty, but even so the kids were housed, fed, clad and loved to the max. And that love continues between us all.

I don't belong to a lodge, but ain't I an Oddfellow ? . . . . . . . . .

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