America’s obsession with things laminated in fake wood grain

Hello! Next in a series of topics suggested by friends. This comes from Denise N. – who may have a hidden agenda rooted in her own personal obsession. It’s okay, Denise. I’m here to help you branch out and face your demons.

I would love to project my ego far enough to speak for America but that gives me the heebie-jeebies right now. So, I’ll speak for myself and perhaps it will provide food for thought.

Oaky-dokie, here goes…

America’s obsession with things laminated in fake wood grain.

Laminated fake wood grain was a childhood obsession. I didn’t know any better and wood not have cared if I did.

Heck, I’ll go you one better! Particle board covered in fake wood grain wallpaper would scratch that itch! It didn’t even have to be Masonite to give me a thrill.

It wasn’t about the material. Laminated fake wood grain represented attainable perfection. Perfection =  love. More of this disposal furniture = more love. I wanted us to stuff as much of that crap into our single-wide trailer as possible.

Yew know.

Laminated fake wood grain was aspirational

A coffee table meant the living room could be a place where people gathered and did civilized things like having coffee and chatting about how their kids were doing in school. They could be happy.

A cheap set from the flea market meant things matched in my bedroom at Dad’s house where I’d sleep every other weekend. It meant that he was sappy enough to furnish it prettily.

A rocking chair meant that a Mommy could sit next to the coordinated bassinet and changing table and rock her baby. We didn’t have one but I’d seen rocking chairs in my latch-key-kid, afternoon tv, Doris Day happy-perfect-land. Sideboard – I pine for more Doris Day. Don’t you ever be dissing the DD.

From a distance, laminated fake wood grain looked like the real thing. Just like me.

Bliss.

Evolution

Eventually, I was introduced to real wood. Get your mind out of the gutter. The idea that real wood existed. That there were physical elements in life that are basically and intrinsically sturdy and of value. Like me.

It stumped me to twig that things laminated in fake wood grain were temporary and that the joy they represented wasn’t sustainable. I suspected that that was not always acceptable.

As I evolved, I acquired a rocking chair. It belonged to my husband’s Mother and she had rocked both her babies in it. It was a really sturdy chair and Sally kept for 40 something years. I wanted it when she died even though she was a tiny woman and I couldn’t actually cram my Amazonian ass into it. I tried to find a place in our house to put it where I could see it. It took up a lot of floor space for what was essentially a piece of art that I couldn’t hang on the wall so I logged it down to our basement. I see it when I go to the basement and it makes me happy to think of Sally rocking Ron and Valerie in it.

Gratitude

I’m grateful for things laminated in fake wood grain. It helped me branch out.

Not to put a halo on it, but it was in the mix that ingrained the concept of ‘choice’. Am I investing in something with craftsmanship that I would like to last? Or, am I selecting an item that is a temporary fix because that’s what fits my current need? I could actually connifer these options and ash for what I needled.

I’m rolling my home office chair around on a big piece of Masonite at this very moment because it protects the original timber floors in my 148 year old house.

Sweet.

 

I’m Susan Scot Fry, the author of “A Year of Significance”. In 2020, I take on the greatest nemesis of my life: Binge Eating Disorder. With a side of aplomb sauce. Honest, occasionally humorous and sometimes I swear.