Today a junk
man hauled away Aunt Martha’s Couch. This old Victorian couch covered in green velvet
with tarnished brass upholstery pins has been in our family since I was in the
fifth grade. It leaned against the wall in the house I grew up in and after
that house was sold, it came with me to my own home in Bound Brook, NJ where it
leaned against another wall for over 25 years. Silly how an old couch can bring
up all sorts of emotions.
Aunt Martha’s
Couch belonged to my grandmother’s half-sister Martha McKenzie. It was in her
parlor in New York. I remember sitting on it as a very little girl while having
Borden’s French Vanilla ice cream. Elsie the Cow was on the carton and the ice
cream had ice crystals in it. We ate it anyway because our mom told us to be
polite. When Aunt Martha died her couch
came to live at our house in Elberon and her name lived on.
When I first
saw the movie Old Yeller I crawled under Aunt Martha’s couch and hugged our dog
Rebel as I cried my eyes out when the main character, Travis, shot Yeller
because it was thought that he might have rabies. Six years later every prom picture was taken in front of that
couch and then ten years after that, my wedding picture spread featured Aunt
Martha’s Couch and another dog, Lady. A few years later my baby shower was held in
the living room of my parent’s house and Aunt Martha’s Couch was again there. I
can still see my mother, sister and friends sitting on that green velvet lumpy
couch.
After my parent’s
sold our house, Aunt Martha’s Couch came to my own house. She stretched against
the wall in the foyer looking all green and regal. I added pillows and she fit
right into a busy household where book bags, backpacks and purses were thrown
on her on a daily basis. She was a cozy spot for the cats to snooze and our
sweet dog Sammy chose to die right there under her. Halloween pictures, first
day of school and then prom pictures were posed in front of Aunt Martha; the
tradition continued.
When we moved
to a small house in Sea Bright Aunt Martha’s Couch couldn’t come. I tried to
sell her to someone who would love her and take care or her as we had. No one
came forward. I tried to give her away for free. Nothing. Today a guy with a
junk hauling truck came to take her away. I couldn’t watch but I did think of
her and all the memories stored in her musty greenness (Dad swore that she hid
her money in that horsehair upholstery. I never found it).
Aunt Martha’s Couch
is just that; a couch. Still, she holds memories that include family and
friends and like an old friend, we had to bid her a sweet good bye.
