We drove to Fresno last weekend to pick up some redwood chaise lounges that have been in Trent’s family for decades.
Trent’s grandpa, Burgess Eastwood (that is THE BEST grandpa name ever), restored these chairs a lifetime ago for one of Trent’s aunts that I don’t think Trent’s ever even met. Since then they’ve been on several porches, including Grandpa Burgess’s up in the mountains outside of Yosemite, all through Trent’s childhood. We don’t really know where they came from or how old they are, but they’re definitely beautiful. And comfy.
Burgess and Dorothy (yes, that’s Trent’s grandma’s name — these people are real, and they’re just as lovely as their names make them sound) are 92 and 89 respectively now. They still live on their own; Burgess still restores furniture. They’ve just retired to a smaller home in Fresno, though, and they offered us the chairs for our new yard.
Obviously, that was an offer we couldn’t refuse.
We borrowed Trent’s cousin Chris’s old pickup and drove through the Valley in 110 degree heat to retrieve them — without air conditioning (poor Sammy, too). Of course, that feat was nothing compared to our 92-year-old grandfather going to the storage unit and insisting on loading them HIMSELF into the pickup in the blazing heat.
Greatest generation: clearly.
While we were there, they also gave us Trent’s late father’s table saw, now mounted on a table handmade by Burgess. And some old metal and wooden folding chairs: audience seats saved by Trent’s great-grandfather when the theater at Fort Sam Houston burned in 1916.
Oh! And an antique cross-cut saw that Trent’s cousin Greg found in an old plantation house in Louisiana.
My house feels different now that these things are in it; it feels warmer. More inviting. It finally feels like it’s coming along (I hope that won’t be spoiled if I paint the metal on the folding chairs some fabulous, bright color?).
Now that the dust is settling, we can get to the real home-making.