Metal Chair Preserved Over Four Generations of Petersons
Paul Peterson: 1867-1941
Regina Syverson Peterson: 1872-1952
My brother now owns the farm our grandfather, Paul Peterson,
originally owned in Brown County, Minnesota. Kent also owns a metal lawn chair
that our grandparents used. It’s been repainted a dozen times or so, but each
generation has preserved it and used it. Now our children will have a chance to
lounge in the grass in the same chair as their ancestors Paul and Regina did.
I don’t know where the chair was purchased, or when. It is
constructed of heavy metal with a sort of curving shape—rounded hollow metal
tubes form the arms and legs of the chair, and the back is shaped like a clam
shell, while the seat has a couple holes for drainage. It is a heavy piece of
outdoor furniture—no matter how strong the gale, the chair stood, usually in
the shade of a tree, perfect for relaxing on a summer day.
The first photo I have found of the chair was taken in the
summer of 1941. My grandfather Paul is seated in the chair, which was painted
in a dark color. He looks frail; he died at age 74 about six months later on
December 31, 1941. To the left is his granddaughter Elaine Peterson, and to the
right is Elaine’s little brother Roger. They were the children of Paul’s son
Oscar, so were my first cousins. They lived just down the road about a quarter
mile or so, and so were probably frequent visitors to their grandparents’ and
uncle’s house. Little Roger was born January 29, 1939, so was only two and a
half years old in the photo. Elaine was eight.
I love the details in this photo. Grandpa Paul has his cane
and is wearing a hat and a long-sleeved shirt and long pants, but he is
barefoot—his one concession to what was probably a hot summer day. The farm
dog, a collie mix, lies near him in the shade. Behind him is the house I grew
up in. I can see that my grandma Regina has trained a vining plant to climb a
trellis at the side of the porch, which would provide shade from the afternoon
sun. There is another wooden chair on the porch at the far right of the photo.
My cousin Elaine is wearing a skirt—no shorts for young
ladies in that era—and a buttoned blouse and open-work shoes. Little Roger is
wearing a romper-length overall with no shirt, and some sort of summery shoes.
I love his cheery smile and his cute little jug ears.
The next photo was taken a few years later, after Paul’s
death. Regina is enjoying a summer afternoon in the yard. Given the shorter
length of her dress and her snow white hair and apparent age, I think this photo
was taken in the late 1940s, just a few years before her death at age 80 in
1952. The chair still seems to bear its original dark paint. Regina is sitting
facing the road, so the house is out of the frame to the right. Behind her is a
small sapling that was a large tree by the time I was a child, and the chicken
coop.
Once again, the details are a delight. I love Regina’s
glasses. Rather than wire frames, it looks like she had nearly black Bakelite
or plastic frames with wire earpieces. She is wearing what folks called a “housedress”—not
dressy enough for church or special occasions, but fine for regular
housekeeping and gardening work. The floral dress’ collar is trimmed with white
“rickrack” edging. Her shoes are interesting—not lace-ups like I’d expected,
but some sort of slip-on with a pattern on the top. It appears she is wearing
hose despite the warm day, which was pretty typical of the era. Her hands,
folded in her lap, show the effects of a lifetime of hard work in a cold
climate—her fingers and knuckles are thick and swollen-looking. She’s smiling,
but not showing her teeth, and given the sort of crumpled look of her face, I’m
guessing that’s because she was missing a lot of teeth.
Like Paul, she has the company of a dog. This time, it’s a
tiny terrier. My dad had a similar dog when I was young, a rat terrier named
Trixie, but I believe this is a different dog with a darker coat.
The third photo of the lawn chair shows me probably shortly
after my first birthday, so the summer of 1960. The chair has now been
repainted to the white that I remember from my childhood. The chair is sitting
near where it was in Grandma Regina’s photo, but at more of an angle so anyone
sitting in it could look back at the house and porch, while also getting a view
of the road. The chicken coop is again visible, but the sapling is now a
sizable tree.
In the photo, I am not a sturdy walker yet, so I am using the
chair to stay on my feet. I am grinning over my shoulder at either my mother or
my Grandpa Macbeth, who were the photographers in the family. I’m wearing a
little pastel sunsuit, and I was probably barefoot. My hair was still thin and wispy,
and was fluttering in a slight breeze. Such a happy summer shot!
I’m sure that a more thorough review of family photos will
turn up more shots of family members in the long-lived lawn chair. I also need
to get a photo of the next generation—either my children or my brother’s son—making
use of the chair on a balmy Minnesota day. I’ll have to post an update to this
post as I acquire more photos.
Preservation is important not just for family photos and
records, but also for the everyday items that families used over many years and
many generations. They often provide a deeper understanding of our ancestors’
lives than records.
So long live the chair, and a huge thanks to my brother for
preserving it as it approaches its centennial!
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