I was part of a generation who, to outsiders, seemed to protest everything. The Vietnam War, students’ rights, college curriculums, the Women’s movement, the first Earth Day, and probably some causes I’ve forgotten. Of course, we were always on the right side of history –if I remember correctly. (And if I’m wrong, don’t remind me. I’m getting too old to remember specifics. Besides, if it’s anything illegal, I was probably in Detroit at the time.)
We came up with the phrase: “never trust anyone over 30.” Imagine how I felt when my 40thbirthday approached. What a PITA (ie, Pain in the A**). Could I still trust myself? How about my wife? And what would I want for a birthday gift? Luckily, my wife remembered something I mentioned as we shopped for furniture for our first home. I still can’t remember what it cost. But, at first sight, I must have mumbled: “Yea, but it costs too much.”
As birthdays seem to do annually, the occasion arrived quicker than I expected –but not quicker than my wife’s memory. Thank goodness. She gave me a desk. (see above) Not a plastic toy one either. Hunt Country Furniture made it. It was solid wood, measuring 30” x 60” x 22”. Very impressive. Plus, the top and sides of the desk, unlike many doors in our present home, are not hollow. It now has it’s share of scars, scrapes, and wear marks. Like me, it has aged and shows it. But it still stands and functions as well as the day I received it.
It provides the surface on which I write. My computer stands on it. It’s drawers are packed: pens and pencils, note pads, articles: read and unread, magazines and a few books, plus a three shelf plastic container full and sitting on top. It does everything but write my articles by itself. I’m still required to come up with ideas, words, and opinions. The desk can’t do everything.
t reminds me of other desks which were of greater historical significance. For example, the desk where Jackie Robinson and Branch Rickey signed a contract and integrated baseball. (see below) The agreement was made sixty-some years after professional baseball was established. Not everyone was ready for the agreement, but Mr. Robinson was. We are better as a sport and a society because of his optimism, courage, and talent.
The photo of a desk that always brings a smile to my face and tears to my eyes was taken in The White House’s Oval Office. John Kennedy sat behind it and his son, John John, played underneath it and could be seen through a small doorway cut into the desk’s front. (see below) The picture was taken before November 22, 1963.
To end on a much lighter note: I remember a picture of Stephen King working at his desk with a dog under foot, (see below) perhaps dictating to him. Or was that a picture of me and Luna? Eh, No. It was King and his best friend. Luna does not give or take dictate.
Do you have a desk? I highly recommend one.