KEEPSAKE CHRONICLES
Romancing the Past with Rickford
"Hairloom"
I had known Jerry B. since college days. We were members of the same fraternity. After graduation Jerry became an accountant and I went into the restoration business. Then Jerry became my accountant. Ours was a very close business and personal relationship. Jerry had a unique personality, one that you could recall instantly with a smile: a world-class cynic with heart the size of Mount Everest. What a combination!
One day, without warning, that big heart gave out when he suffered a sudden, fatal heart attack.
I knew Jerry's family well and wanted to do something special for them. I told Maggie, his wife, that I wanted to find some item of Jerry's from which to create an heirloom in honor of his memory. Maggie made her choice.
It wasn't a valuable piece as money goes, but the memories were priceless. It was the desk he had used since high school. It needed quite a bit of repair and restoration work.
As the work progressed, I asked Maggie if I could look through some of Jerry's personal belongings. I explained that I wanted to include something of his in the restored piece: a button, a swatch of clothing. I've done this numerous times before for customers. It's a way of weaving intangible emotions into the physical reality of a finished piece – a way of creating something special for the family that can be passed on from one generation to the next. There is always something.
Finally, I knew what it would be for Jerry. I told Maggie I had found what I was after, although I did not immediately tell her what it was.
I discovered the special memory I would incorporate into Jerry's desk the day my eye lighted upon a single gray hair I found in the rim of his favorite Greek fisherman's cap.
Back
at the studio, we added that single hair into the final coat of the desk's finish.
Maggie knows that Jerry's DNA is a permanent part of her beloved's desk, giving
her a special heirloom. And it was a joy for me to have provided this service
in memory of my old friend.
