The Recliner, by Ray S

The weekly ritual would begin, by necessity, of dragging two dining room chairs into the little TV room so there was room for the four of us to watch one of our host’s DVDs.

As a rule the wall opposite the big screen sported a slim Modern Danish lounge chair and ottoman next to a broken-down somewhat ponderous in scale leather recliner. When its occupant seated himself, it was necessary to force the chair-back until it slammed the wall in back in order to attain a suitable viewing position. Mechanically the chair didn’t do what you wanted it to do. Instead it grabbed you and wouldn’t separate from one without a struggle. Note: nobody sat in this chair but its owner-victim.

When we inquired about why the owner and the handicapped recliner had spent so long tolerating the chair’s posture misadventures, the reply was that the two had just grown old together.

At this point our conspiracy bloomed to a planned visit to a Recliner Emporium when we all paraded through a forest of overstuffed but functioning mechanical chairs that were guaranteed to obey their masters.

After some deliberation, a new brown leather model was approved. There was one remaining question: the tariff that would find a new home for the chair in question.

Our “little movie theatre” owner allowed as how he had gone along with our dream-charade, but was truly not even considering replacing the chair someone had given him and his partner years ago. It hadn’t crippled him yet.

End of story? Not quite. We three decided to surprise our friendly movie-mogul on the occasion of his birthday with the new and approved recliner. It wasn’t until we had unpacked the new chair on the sidewalk of his home and pushed the doorbell that he discovered the new arrival. Once the decrepit old chair was relegated to the alley and the new recliner in place “the show must go on.”

Today this is all a memory, a happy one at that, but sadly to say our fourth friend and host (and for all we know) have moved on to some old and maybe some new movies in the heavenly beyond. A life well lived and many stories well told.

In memory of Stephen F. Krause

© 6 Feb 2017 

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