Requiem of the Blue Chair

There was a funny routine in interactions with my father-in-law. It is funny to me now because of how consistent it was. It happened after most visits where we had a sit-down lunch or dinner.

First, we’d go into the living room and sit in front of the TV in the two blue recliners. Many times we’d have ice cream and/or coffee. Golf would be on. Recliners would be engaged.

Then we’d talk about what was going on with jobs (or college, back in the day). He’d always be interested, with the sly implication that he was making sure that I was taking care of his daughter. As such, there was always some advice or input. Some of it was a bit too conservative for my taste, other times it was really excellent guidance particularly with regard to management and career strategy.

When the ice cream was finished, I’d set my empty bowl down on the coffee table in between the blue chairs. My intent was to return it to the kitchen in a few minutes, but my father-in-law would usually take both his and mine in before that.

About this time I would pick up the paper, which was always lying on the floor in front of the chairs. My father in law would say “hey, you need some light, don’t you?”

I’d say that I was fine, but he’d go turn on the light anyway. Over the years, in the houses where there were several switches, he’d hit the ceiling fan or other lights at random until the right one came on. Isn’t it strange that no matter how long we’ve lived in a house, we still have to hunt for the right switch when there are more than two?

Then after reading some newspaper and perhaps discussing the electronics in the Best Buy ads, he’d give me the TV remote and we’d both either doze off or keep talking about things for a little while longer. If a golf tournament was on we’d discuss golf, even though I’m a terrible golfer. Other times the kids would lobby for Spongebob which meant naptime for the adult males.

This routine occurred in some variant from the time I was 17 years old, which is almost 20 years.

I never realized it was a routine until a couple weeks ago when I sat down in that blue recliner with ice cream in hand and a paper at my feet. While the quiet noise of NickJr. echoed through the dim room, I ate ice cream alone.