There are only a few items from my past that I really feel the need to hang on to -- notes from my daughters, the 6-foot grand piano my mom bought secondhand in 1973, and the step stool that is more than 65 years old and has survived near-constant use by my parents, my four brothers and me, seven grandchildren, a couple of great-grands, and countless other adults and kids who spent time in their house and in ours.
As I understand the story (until one of my brothers or another member of our extended Pannabecker family corrects me), our great-grandfather made one of these stools for each of his grandchildren. This four legged stool has a handle with a hole for grasping, served various purposes -- a horse for children, a seat for the cook who wanted to be at the level of the window of an oven or for putting on shoes and boots. It's lived most of its life in a kitchen, but can easily travel to another location.
After my dad died and my mom moved first to a condo and then an independent living apartment, the stool traveled with her. One day the stool somehow got in her way and she ended up on the floor with a minor injury, but she was so mad she called me and told me to take it away. A few weeks later, she told me to return it. Never argue with a 90-year-old. Sigh.
Eventually, it moved to our house. I've never wanted to paint it or replace the 1960s linoleum on the seat/step mostly because it's one of the things about which I'm nostalgic and because I love anything that smacks of mid-century style.
My hope was to find a woodworker who could use it as a pattern to make a copy for each of our daughters. During the pandemic, I finally asked a friend if he was interested in making two of them. He agreed and liked the style so much, I think he made a few extras. His only request was that I reimburse him for the cost of materials and make a donation to one of his (and ours) favorite organizations -- Mennonite Central Committee. We surprised the girls with their stools for Christmas that year. It's up to them to paint, stain, varnish, etc.
Much as I love redoing/upcycling,
I'm not going to change a thing
about ours. At the back of my mind is a suspicion that changing it will impact its effectiveness. And when I step on it, I'm reminded of a quote attributed to retired broadcast journalist Barbara Walters:
One may walk over the highest mountain one step at a time.