The Laughing Wolf

Life, Like Fine Furniture

In trying to finish up all the estate stuff I started, I am getting rid of my bed. This is a bed I built, starting with rough cut lumber from a saw mill. It was my pride and joy, a project never finished, and a solid part of my life for many years. Why am I getting rid of it you say? Well that is a good question that has two parts to the answer, and there is a bit more, for the old-fashioned process of furniture is an interesting corollary to our own lives.

My bed is leaving me because I very much want to get married, and because it is time to put the past behind me and move on to a new life. Furniture can end up defining us, making us, and limiting us. If we let it, it can drive what we do and how we do it.

This bed started life as a pile of rough lumber from a sawmill. Cherry planks somewhere close to an inch thick that had to be planed down on each side to usable wood, then joined (run across a joiner) to give smooth and square edges. Then the real fun began, when you brought the boards together to form a solid headboard and footboard, drilling holes, inserting hardwood dowels, placing glue, and then clamping them together. Slowly, sections at a time, the pieces came together to form something that was pretty.

Once that was done, everything was cut and squared yet again, then sanded. You start with about 60 grit to take out all the saw marks and such, then work up slowly to 600 grit. Then you clean and stain it, to bring out the colour. This wood was so beautiful that I refused to use anything other than natural finish on it, and the rich deep colour is the reward. It took several coats of natural finish, with steel wool between each.

Then it was ready for the lacquer to be applied. It is nerve racking work, because one little glitch and you get to sand it all back down and start over. There are between 15 and 20 coats of lacquer on the headboard and footboard, and between each coat you take the finest steel wool or 600 grit sandpaper to the finish. The end result, however, is a deep gloss coating on the wood. The siderails are waxed, because they are the most likely to get damaged or dinged, and it is easy to fix dings and such on a wax surface. Several layers of wax are on each.

The design was all mine, and incorporated things I saw at various antique and furniture stores. The height was very carefully calculated with some admonitions from The Joy of Sex in mind, and the precision did pay off, though not as often as I would have liked.

Originally, it was designed without posts, but the headboard proved to be so massive that it was warping out of its own weight. As a result, I had to trim out some posts and put them on it to keep it straight. That part of the job was rushed, because Woodworking 101 was over and my use of the shop a courtesy. Besides, it was my bed and the floor was not comfortable. The posts were never truly finished, since there were to be brass balls and brass trim work on the footboard, and cabinets with reading lamps and stereo speakers off the headboard. Finances, and an inability to take the needed foundry and advanced woodworking courses, kept those from fruition.

The size of that bed, the plans I had for it, and the emotion and such put into it have driven parts of my life for years. It has dictated the apartments I have lived in, money, linens, and all manner of things. It has been a good bed and sturdy, and I value its memory very much.

Yet, those memories are also a driver for it to go. It is time to put away my youth and get serious about life and family. The bed will have all that loading, the memories of not-nearly-as-wild-as-I-would-have-like-youth, and more with it. That is not the making of a good marriage bed. I think that a couple should select a new bed that can be the repository of their dreams, and the foundation on which to build a whole new set of good memories and pleasures in marriage. So, to put away the things of a child, and to set aside the emotional loading, it must go.

I have spent the last couple of days working on the headboard posts, trying to fix some of the damage and stuff from the years, and otherwise make it as presentable as possible for sale. With luck, it goes to the consignment place today or tomorrow. Maybe one more coat of wax, maybe a quick wipe of the lacquer with Scott’s. Who knows.

As I did the work, my mind turned philosophical. In many ways, we are like custom made furniture. Our parents start with raw materials that are joined together and shaped. The care they put into that initial work determines a lot about us, but even then bad work can be changed, repaired, or refinished later in life by ourselves or others. It may be hard, painful, or expensive, but it can be done with will and skill. Others that come into our lives help shape us as well. They can work on us to refine and finish us, to add structure or decorative things to us, and they can scuff and damage us if we let them. Again, we have the choice to do fix the damage and return to gleaming splendor.

When we find the right person or persons to come into our life, we grow and become more than we are. Like furniture, we can become something new, something better, yet carry forward all that was good of the old.

In my case, it is time to let go of something that has been a part of me, that has shaped me much as I have shaped it. With luck, it will go to a good person or family who will take my work and build on it, maybe even finish it on out as I would have liked to do. Who knows where they will take it, and it will take them. All that truly matters is that it is time to reshape and refinish lives, for the better. Now, where did I put those tools…

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