Lesson One - Sandy G.

     Even with the many fabric scraps I was given to play with, my daddy’s chair is my earliest  memory of cloth. I was around 2 years old.  It was one of those big overstuffed armchair from the early 1940’s. It had a dark wooden frame at the bottom with curved claw type front feet.  The end of the arms were shaped like the feet and I loved to rub my tiny hands over and over them. With delight, I dusted those feet and hand claws with Sandra’s special dusting cloth.

     The cloth that covered that wonderful chair was a beautiful blue brocade with a green blending to turquoise swirl.  Also intermitting traveling around was a narrow to wide golden swirl . During the day I would climb up in that chair with a couple of books.  As soon as I finished looking through those books I would lay them on the small round table, that belonged to my maternal grandmother and wander my hands over the fabric to c feel the different layers.  Next  would be to choose one of the wandering swirls of colours and follow it. I never seemed to tire of doing this.

      I can vividly remember how large the living and dining area was; where  the windows and doors were locate; and how the dining room table and buffet cabinet were positioned at the other end of the room. But for the life of me I have no memory of the other furniture in the room.  It is as if daddy’s chair is surrounded by a halo.  Maybe because  every night I would crawl into his lap while he read me a ‘big” person’s book, meaning that it had chapters.