HAVE A SEAT!
They have resided in various locales over the past half century, never traveling much further than San Francisco and Pacifica. From certain angles they look every bit of their fifty plus years and then when the light hits them just right, they could be on display in a fine furniture store.
No one quite seems to understand why they are taking up space in this less than spacious home. They don’t go with the décor, if you could call it that. Early eclectic? Post college? But the nostalgia ingrained in the fine leather, and the stitching becoming frayed around the edges from so much usage, tell the story of two wonderful men. That is why it is inconceivable to think of parting with the ol’ leather chairs.
These are the men who epitomized “the Greatest Generation”. Both after having served in World War II came home from the conflict, resumed their careers, married their true loves, and became the unlikeliest of friends. The first, the green leather chair, was a Midwesterner through and through. If he had seconds of potatoes at dinner, he also had to take a helping of meat and vegetables so it would all “balance”. He was a barber by trade, barber pole and all, taking over his father’s shop and even living upstairs with his bride for a time.
The other, the burgundy chair, was from upstate New York, Rochester to be exact, who didn’t marry until ’52 because he was caring for his ailing mother who was suffering from dementia. A flight surgeon in the Navy, he came home to San Francisco to resume his Radiology practice, unaware that it was there he would meet the new hire and love of his life.
The green and burgundy chair met because their wives were sisters and, rather than focus on their different paths, they bonded over common interests. The ever-burgeoning families they had married into and their love of sports, attending countless Niner and Warrior games together. When the teams were on the road, they would sit in their respective leather chairs and enjoy the wins and struggle through the losses. On occasion the burgundy chair’s curly haired son could join them and enjoy their camaraderie as well as the game.
Their friendship was all too brief, as the green chair passed from lung cancer in the Fall of ’74. The burgundy chair only lasted three more years before succumbing to a massive heart attack. So, you must understand by now why it is impossible to part with burgundy and green. I can still see burgundy sitting in his chair leafing through his medical journals. And there is green, watching the Niners in his chair with a row of bowling trophy’s standing like an honor guard on the credenza behind him.
They are so much more than leather and stitching to me. They are symbols of an unlikely pair who became so close green chair was the best man at burgundy’s wedding, whom he affectionately called “Doc”.