She Got The Chair
As for me, I’m very content with everything I have, while my chair, that if could only talk, would lecture on what’s important, and what’s not and how money doesn’t buy happiness. Sigh
About Susannah Bianchi
I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
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45 Responses to She Got The Chair
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Susannah, happiness and contentedness are entwined. Pookie and I have lived in a small trailer, a slum apartment, and worked our way up to a mini-mansion. We have always been happy.
In addition to being content, we need to be able to see the beauty around us. That is something you do in spades, whether it’s appreciating nature, witnessing/giving acts of kindness, or being cognizant of your surroundings. Too many people go through life with blinders on.
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Oh yes, and how accurately you’ve described me. I am so happy with the simplest surroundings. Just now i came from the park that is so flush. Irish Green, I call it, verdant from all the rain we’ve had. I never understand those who need so much then never even notice what it is they’ve acquired. Leaves me perennially scratching my head. Thanks, as always. 🙂
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Susannah,
Firstly, thank you quite a lot for the mention. I’m surprised/honored/smiling that you would wrangle me in to your laboratory.
Your style is so smooth. Whereas my “fuck you” is about as subtle as a dull hatchet, you can summon the sentiment so very sweetly. With better payoff. Imma take your two cents and raise you three more . . so we have a nickel in the pot. You can give it to the artist formerly known as Top Hat when he’s gallivanting drunkenly about. That way, he’ll only be a dollar eighty away from a Starbucks java.
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Mr. Imma under estimates himself. He writes compellingly. I’m looking forward to his Heroes of the Week, hoping Jon Stewart is on your list. When I heard him speak before Congress I wept. I’m still so affected about September 11th, 19 years later. Anyway…here’s to you and Jon.
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Compellingly . . . you just made me smile AND you added one to the file. 🙂
Jon Stewart, got it.
He spoke for those who ain’t getting heard and yes . . we need more of Jon and those like him.
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I’ll forward to what you write about him. He was so awesome the way he spoke. Henry Clay couldn’t have done it better.
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It was inspiring, that’s for sure.
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I know. He cried, his passion getting the best of him.
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He has done so much work for the first responders and those affected by the conditions at Ground Zero.
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Very impressive, indeed, since he could just sit on his laurels and do nothing for the rest of humanity. A common theme these days.
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Peeps today are into being socially engaged and branding themselves. Which is basically Kardashian speak for being self absorbed automatons.
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I’m so the other way, it’s hard for me to relate Mr. Imma.
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We’re moving into Orwell’s penthouse suite and we don’t even realize it . . .
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Wonder what he would say. Too bad we can’t call’em.
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What gets me is that we are in the early stages of it all. I can’t imagine what life will be like in another twenty five years.
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I won’t be here…at least I hope I won’t be. Don’t want to live doddering in a chair while some woman from Belize ignores me in Islandese on her cell phone.
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I totally relate to that sentiment.
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Yeah, I’ll bet. Quality of life has been surpassed by modern medicine. Wonder what Jefferson would think, or Franklin. They lived to be pretty old for their time, but it was all natural. Well, as far as I know.
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Take twenty years off my tote board so long as I can walk and take care of my own particulars, thank you very much.
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You said it pal!!!!!!!
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You are my people. You understand.
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That’s what Bobby Kennedy always said when he campaigned. Have you ever read Thurston Clarke’s…The Last Campaign? It’s one of my favorite books about RFK. It’s the short, tender 82 days before he was shot. I think Mr. Imma would appreciate its poignancy. His Chief of Staff’s 2 cents.
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It resonates, and it’s true.
That’s my wheelhouse. The Kennedys almost feel as if they happened inside another universe. What with how the world has changed course, it’s impossible to think they were the boys running the flag up every morning there for a brief moment in time.
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There’s only one Kennedy of that generation left…Jean. They’re all gone. sigh
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Here’s one for the old Top Hat . . .
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Loved them, especially the Tears part. 🙂
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A girl after my own dark funny bone.
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Gallows Humor. She laughs at everything.
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That a girl. 😉
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You can’t buy happiness, they say. It’s the little things that make life special. And hey, the more you have, the more you have to worry about too. Love the story of the chair. I think also carrying it all that way made it even more special for you.
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It wasn’t all that heavy but still it was quite a ways. I’ve had it all these years. It’s like an old friend.
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How great Marc inspired you to write this post, Susannah.
I think the things we schlep across town because we fell in love with them is the best thing. How can you not still love this item?
I think it’s sad the couple didn’t make it. Because even if you were raised to be snooty and above others, there is always a chance you can become a better person. They fall into that whole cliché but what to do?
Thank you for sharing your story.
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I still see him. We don’t speak after one day, on the avenue, I’d say 4 years ago, he went off on me like a roman candle. Drunks do that. They fixate and get all nutty. I also find that many long term marriages just get ugly. Life’s short. I always feel if a union no longer serves then it’s prudent to put it to rest. My own parents were a prime example. If my mother had let my dad go rather than selfishly hanging on to me, abusing him terribly, I think he would have lived much longer, alcohol not having the last say. But alas, all sadly moot.
As far as my chair goes. Her parts needed a little care…reweaving…and the wicker man asked me why did I want to fix such an old chair, and I said, WHO YOU CALLIN’ OLD…and that was the end of that…:)
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I don’t think I’d speak to him either. Drunks do have a tendency to fixate and get nutty.
And I could not agree with you more. If it is broke, then do let it go. I never understand why people insist. After 29 years, my parents finally got a divorce. Originally my father was all “soap-opera-ish” with his flinging things off tables and throwing out my mother’s things (and some of ours in his fury). And then, amazingly, they both refound love and were happy; him for almost 23 years before his death from lung cancer and my mother is still on-going, though very difficult as he had a stroke and is paralyzed on the left side leaving her exhausted in caring for him…
I love your response to the wicker man!
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I love your parent’s story. Sorry about your dad, but sounds like he went out knowing he was quite loved. sigh
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Thanks.
I can’t believe it’s already been six years this past May. He was well-loved. (A pain in the ass at times, too!) And he went out the way he wanted to. His three girls, his girlfriend and stepson all around him. Too young at 70, though.
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Yes, 70 is much too young. sigh
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It is. And ironically, when he was younger, he used to say that if he lived until he was 70, he thought that was going to be old enough. Changed his mind as he hit 65.
Proof ya gotta be careful what you put out into the Universe!!
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I so get it. Nice that you have such warm memories of him.
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I do. And he’s been my muse for a few of my stories.
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What’s better than that.
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Truth!
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Agreed, and I am definitely happy!
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I like your piece, I like your chair, but most of all I like your attitude.
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I like furniture that, if it could talk, could tell a story.
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