Then my mysterious, never-met-in-my-life great-uncle died and left my parents with a wealth of family heirlooms. As a huge history buff, I think the boxes of letters, photos, and artifacts spanning the last century that my parents received are simply amazing. A letter from a son to his father arguing his worth to the family's name, WWI-era Paris honeymoon photos from a nurse and a soldier madly in love. A Yale entrance exam with French and Latin translations as included requirements. My direct ancestors. History, but nothing like from the books.
My parents also were shipped two paintings. One medium-sized, turn-of-the-century, very Andrew Carnegie, grayed man of distinguishment.
And this...
My great-great-great grandfather George. His middle name comes from a famous general of the War of 1812; he was born in 1813. This portrait was painted in the 1830s. Like Henry Clay, canals and turnpikes, territorial expansion 1830s.
It is also a whopping four feet tall. My mother had no clue where she would put this. I not-so-subtly suggested I might have a bare wall or two, not to mention a sense of crazy cool-ness by displaying and owning something like this.
It barely fit into the back seat of the SUV, but it slide it snuggly bubble-wrapped and boxed. My husband humors me and my crazy ideas quite well, but this took the cake. He didn't get to even see it until 3 hours later when we arrived back home- there was no returning it.
For now, it hangs proudly in our formal living room, competing only with bare white walls and a lonely couch. He owns that space. Owns it.
Designers talk about highlighting a centerpiece in a room , a fireplace, a canopy bed. Um, yeah.... I think I'm good. Sorry bay windows, you've been demoted to a secondary role.
Now the new question is: How will I ever make the room worthy of Grandpa George?
Quickly followed up with: How I will get Grandpa George and his gilded frame to mesh with my beach-y, airy vibe?
I have no idea.
It is also a whopping four feet tall. My mother had no clue where she would put this. I not-so-subtly suggested I might have a bare wall or two, not to mention a sense of crazy cool-ness by displaying and owning something like this.
It barely fit into the back seat of the SUV, but it slide it snuggly bubble-wrapped and boxed. My husband humors me and my crazy ideas quite well, but this took the cake. He didn't get to even see it until 3 hours later when we arrived back home- there was no returning it.
For now, it hangs proudly in our formal living room, competing only with bare white walls and a lonely couch. He owns that space. Owns it.
Designers talk about highlighting a centerpiece in a room , a fireplace, a canopy bed. Um, yeah.... I think I'm good. Sorry bay windows, you've been demoted to a secondary role.
Now the new question is: How will I ever make the room worthy of Grandpa George?
Quickly followed up with: How I will get Grandpa George and his gilded frame to mesh with my beach-y, airy vibe?
I have no idea.
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