Much like I need updating, my wife and I agree that parts of our house also need updating. Our 98-year-old oak floors are too thin to resand without hitting nails or a dead possum. We need a generator in case of “the big one” and we possibly need a new stove. Certain family members, like “our children,” wonder why Mr. and Mrs. Medicare suddenly desire to spend what someday will be money they might need to do their floors. What they are saying is, “Don’t waste the money; you’ll either be dead or in a nursing home with the toothless in the not-too-distant future.” I already have no teeth.
My wife told me she also wanted to get new dining room chairs. I’m not good at getting rid of things. She’s living with someone who’s had the same hairbrush since 11th grade. How can we part with the six dining room chairs we’ve had for 33 of the 34 years we’ve been married? Her parents owned these chairs for at least 20 years before that. Can we pitch these family heirlooms?
After Nancy’s mother, Elinore, died 34 years ago, her father offered us their buffet, dining room table, and six beautiful solid wood seats. They don’t make this kind of furniture anymore — real quality stuff. He shipped them from Texas and even paid the freight bill when we said yes.
The six chairs provided support during times of deep grief, such as the loss of her father and my mother, Nancy’s brother Mark, our aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and pets. And, of course, during the most joyous times — the birth of our three boys, anniversaries, birthdays, engagements.
When we weakened in spirit, they remained firm. When we clapped, they clapped with us. They stood as a symbol of stability, always ready for us during countless family dinners, homework, putting together photo albums, signing of wills, and mortgage documents.
These chairs bore witness to the tears shed, and the laughter shared. Seated on these chairs, I looked at my emails and found out about work I did and didn’t get. They were present during the most pivotal moments in our lives, from career milestones to health challenges and now my wife’s retirement. They were the silent witnesses to our joys and sorrows, triumphs and tribulations, and many human mistakes.
On Shabbat, these chairs were where we thanked God for our food. From my chair, I would rise and give my children and now their spouses their Shabbat blessing. We shared Torah talks with friends and family — retelling the same ten stories for decades.
As we unknowingly aged, these chairs never seemed to grow older — just stronger and more important. They were timeless. Their seams never busted like my pants when I battled weight. There was never a moment when they faltered and lost their way. There were no knee replacements or bad backs. Nor did anyone complain about their comfort. Their seat never sagged like mine is starting to. They were friends in the truest sense, always there when they were needed. They were old like their owners were quickly becoming.
How important are chairs? According to Jewish tradition, children should not sit in their father’s designated seat even when the father is absent. But after 55 years in our families, it wasn’t easy, but we decided to say goodbye. It was time to move on.
When a family friend, who also got new dining room chairs, heard we were looking, she offered us her eight beautiful chairs in near-perfect shape. We grabbed them.
The following day, I put our original chairs in front of our home for anyone to take. A few minutes later, while taking the dog out, I spotted my neighbor standing beside them. He said, “Are these yours?”
“Yes. I just put them out.”
“They’re beautiful. Can we have them?”
“Enjoy.”
“We have a Farbrengen at our house every Friday night after Shabbos dinner, and they’ll be perfect. Please come by if you can.”
With our new chairs, I don’t yet feel their arms surrounding me like I felt before. But as we get used to our new friends — and I’m sure we will, like everything in life — we must give them time.
Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and hosts, along with Danny Lobell, the “We Think It’s Funny” podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”
