My Mother and Father’s Couch
My mother and father’s mid 1980s couch
As near as my sisters and I can remember, Mom and Dad purchased this couch sometime in the mid 1980s. I don’t think they had it when I brought my newly adopted one-year-old son, Brian, down from Duluth to meet them in April 1981.
My dad on his April 5, 1981 birthday meeting his grandson for the first time.
But sometime after that and before they moved from their longtime home in Austin, MN where dad retired from his equally longtime career at Hormel Foods, they purchased this couch from the highly respected Gabbert furniture store in Edina, MN. Mom and Dad were always modest people with a modest budget. So, this was a big purchase designed to last for the rest of their lives.
And it did! And that was part of my dilemma nearly 40 years later.. How long do you hang onto a family heirloom? Who do you pass them onto? How do shifting values and generations direct what happens to old keepsakes?
This high-quality couch made the journey to Glenwood Springs, CO; then back to Austin, MN a decade later; then up to assisted living with mom in Minneapolis after dad died; then back west with me when mom entered the nursing wing. Christina and I were delighted to have such a classy couch in our modest living room.
Several years passed and the couch began to pose a real and present question in our lives. I had back surgery and the couch was now too soft for me to sit on comfortably. I loved looking at it, but avoided sitting on it for two years Then we asked the question: How long are we going to keep this? We sure don’t want it thrown in the trash at the end of our lives. It still has life in it. Our daughter lives in a small apartment with no room for this. What to do?!?!
We decided to donate it to one of our local non-profits dealing with housing. Lo and behold no one wanted it! It seems there are no end of old couches needing useful rehoming. Thinking that the island was too small a market, I called around in Everett, Washington and Value Village said they would take it “If it is in good shape.”
The couch loaded into a friend’s borrowed truck in a friend’s borrowed garage waiting for a sunny day for transport.
After a week of mixed rain/sunny days a totally sunny day was predicted. Meanwhile, the couch was sitting in our neighbor’s pick up truck in a garage. I took over an hour carefully wrapping it up in sheets and tarps and with great nervousness embarked on my pilgrimage of rehoming. Weekend ferry lines were long. All the while I talked to Mom and Dad, “It’s carefully wrapped up. It will go to a good home and get a lot of use.”(All values I knew were important to them.)
Pilgrimage of the carefully wrapped up couch on the Mukilteo ferry to its new home.
I was really anxious/hoping this was the correct honorable thing to do with one of my family heirlooms. When I arrived at Value Village and unwrapped the couch, the young woman said, “Yes, it looks great! We’ll take it.” As I bundled up all the tarps and bungie cords and ropes, I said to one of the young men who had unloaded it from the truck.
“I sure hope it finds a good home.” The young man looked at me and said, “Oh, it will, Ma’m.”
I know many of my readers face similar questions. And I know these questions are borne of privilege because I DO have a house. Because I DO have an intact family that cares deeply for one another. Because I value tradition and have enormous respect for my elders.
The night I returned from delivering the couch we attended an excellent local theater production of Fiddler on the Roof. Though we are not Jewish, my dad was a lot like Tevya, the main character. Dad had four daughters. Tevya had five. Both of them loved TRADITION. Both of them struggled mightily when the changes of the world descended and forced them to question their ideas of what was right for their daughters.
In Tevya’s case, should a daughter choose someone not designated by the matchmaker; choose someone that forces the daughter to move far away from the village; choose someone from outside the Jewish faith? My dad had to wrestle with questions of divorce and religion. But above all else Dad’s loyalty was to his family and he managed to bridge all those difficult decisions from an honest place of love. He and mom were married until “death drew them apart”. And I totally trust that they respect my decision to keep the couch in active use until the day it, too, finally dies.
Our 2008 pilgrimage to Washington, D.C. Mom’s first visit. Dad’s visit to see the new WW II memorial. (left to right: Ann, Margaret, Kathy, Dad, Mom, Susie.)
This is sweet. Loved the pictures of the couch and Brian and your Dad.
My grandmother’s chaise lounge is mailing its way cross country to Carolyn!
Heirlooms that are passed on by the honor and memories stay with us
Love that you know all the players here and I KNOW how much you value things with history. Your comment means a lot. Ann
This touches me so deeply, such love and respect for ALL things, regardless of who they are. With tears of gratitude, you remind us of what’s really important and true. Thanks dear friend
Thank you, Anne. As an elder, I know you know the journey of caring for things and making important decisions about what stays and what goes. Ann
2025
Hello Fay! I believe you intended to leave a longer comment. It would be welcome. Ann
Interesting dilemma. I never had an issue like that when my parents passed away. I kept two rings and gave them to my brother Robert. My parents really had no material objects worth keeping. I believe they believed as I do: we are born with nothing and we will leave with nothing.
Thank you, Larry. A fresh perspective for sure! Ann
What a tender story … about a couch! Those keepsakes that mean so much to us simply because they’ve been touched by the hands of our ancestors. And who will want them in the current generation? Well done is what I say to your dedicated effort to re-home the couch so honorably.
Thank you, Jana! It was quite a journey and even still feels vulnerable to share. Ann
Dear Ann,
I love it that you found a home for Mom & Dad’s couch. I remember seeing it at your home on the island. I love the story that goes with it. I think of that couch with fondness and love for our parents and huge family. Thanks for taking such good care of it. Mom and Dad would be so happy.
Thank you, Kathy, your comments really mean a lot to me. “Mom and Dad would be so happy,” are exactly the words I needed to hear. Love, Ann
Ohhh… This is so timely. So much stuff accumulates, and we find ourselves in so many conversations and moments like this one you’re describing, whether it’s actual items like couches or ways of living and being in the world. We get the conversations started, then life takes over with those “first things first” reminders, and we realize (again) all the talk we do isn’t much without follow-up. And so, I’m taking your post as a nudge to actually take more of those steps, limiting the focus to one at a time.
Thank you, Deb. Yup, one step at a time seems manageable. And even then, it can be more complex than we imagined—the journey of the couch sure was more complex than I imagined. Ann
Having moved through so many of these decisions in the past 3 years, I’ve begun to treasure intention as I hold items in reverence. And then I give it away. Much love!💗
Thank you, Sharry. That is an absolutely clear, thoughtful statement of how we can move forward in honoring family treasures and then letting them go. A bow to you. Ann
Oh Ann, I understand! You set a good example by letting this treasure go to a new home. I have a storage room half-way across the world where I’ve kept items; I thought that once mom passed I’d be able to let them go. Now she’s gone and the urge to hold on is stronger than before. You have reminded me to give this all some meditative consideration and to seek a practical resolution. Thank you.
You are welcome, Laura. I got practice on one thing, maybe that is a good way to start. At the moment our folks blue chairs that they sat and watched the PBS news hour every evening at 6 are incredible comfortable and we continue to follow that tradition. And Mom’s rocking chair? Well, it’s following me to the net abode whenever and however that might occur because it truly is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in! Ann
Thanks, Ann, for your care and thoughtfulness. That is a priceless photograph of you with our parents. They treasured that sofa for almost forty years! Who keeps a sofa that long any more? Let alone a white one. None of us dog owners can imagine it. 🙂
Sure appreciate your kind words and support, Margaret. Yes, the white color of the sofa made it classy and elegant, just like our Mom—who never would approve of animals on any furniture. Our little Vivi was not allowed on that couch, but has other places to rest that make her feel like a “fur person”.
Ah, a charming story, Ann. You know I get this dilemma. For a long time, I railed at my parents for keeping so much stuff. But I’m finding as more time passes without them (and as what was left behind is getting more under control), that each time I tackle another cabinet or drawer or box, it brings them back to me. I’m grateful for that, and aware that my children won’t have that pleasure, because I am not a saver. I recently separated from my father’s recliner, which had no history other than the fact that he sat in it long after I had left home. And that was hard (more so since no one would take it for reuse because I have a cat), so I can imagine saying goodbye to your parents’ well-storied sofa. 💜
Thanks for your own story, Gretchen. Each story shared illicit a bit more wisdom for all of us going forward. I agree that the stuff we have acquired from our elders really does bring them and tidbits of what they taught us. At this stage, it is a lovely process. Ann
Dear Ann, This is such a precious story of your deep love and respect for your Mom and Dad. It also speaks to the emotions we hold, even in inanimate objects, for all the meanings held in these heirloom objects.
Shortly before my Mom died she gave me all of her crochet hooks. I didn’t need them but I love them, knowing what my Mom made with them and the joy they brought her in making useful items with her hands, as well as her recognition that, out of all of us, I was the one that should carry them forward. How sticks of metal can hold such meaning! I have often wondered if I should be donating them to an assisted living facility so that someone else could have the joy of creating too, instead of just sitting there in my studio for memory’s sake. Your story reminded me to see the act of gifting forward as a way of keeping Mom’s love of creating alive. I don’t need to have them sitting there, in my daily view, to remember what a special gift she imparted to me. Thanks for this sharing that brings me to an action that I know my Mom would certainly approve of. Gratefully, Jeanne
p.s. I appreciate, too, that all of the actions you took to find this couch a good home might well have enhanced your deep memories for what that couch means to you and your whole family.
Lucky the family who receives not only a needed couch for their humble home but one of such quality and meaning.
You are right about so many things here, Jeanne. Yes, the whole process of rehoming the couch brought back so many memories of my parents and time together shared. And, yes, it is amazing how “sticks of metal” can hold such meaning! When the time is right, you will find the correct home for those crochet hooks. Blessings, Ann
Your story touched my heart and brought tears.
Thank you, Katharine
Dear Ann – so many important topics/invitations in one blog!
I love seeing goods (physical and metaphorical ones) circulating among people. (The power of Circle in a different form!)
Peter and I just bought a lovely sofa from our local Habitat for Humanity. It’s a perfect fit for our room. I’m so grateful to whoever gifted it.
We also regularly pass along things we no longer need to various second-hand (now called ‘pre-loved’) hubs and community reuse centers.
My aims here are to live lighter and not burden Mother Earth with more waste – while strengthening invisible community ties.
Plus, visits to vintage shops and reuse places nourish my foraging instincts 🙂 (that women have nurtured for millennia).
Thank you, Marjeta, for taking the conversation “down another level”. Yes, to recycling of all kinds—whether Habitat for Humanity (who wouldn’t take our couch because they have too many), thrift stores, or consignment shops! Ann
Hello Ann,
Your couch story brought tears today remembering the various things I have left of my Mom and Dad’s lifetime. Mom was an artist in her elderhood so all of my family have pieces of her paintings. I tribute my Dad with my persistent activism for justice. Such a deeply touching story! Thank you my dear Ann.
Thank you, Diane! I wondered where your artistic/activist sides came from. Your folks would be so proud to see you in your elder wisdom and activism. Ann
There is something so touching in this story. I know there are some people who can easily separate themselves from “stuff”. But for some of us that sofa, that table, that chair are so infused with love and memory that it’s hard to imagine those invisible threads broken. I have a couple such pieces here that I can’t yet bear to let go of. I hope when it’s time, I am able to facilitate such a thoughtful letting go or moving along. Thanks for sharing a photo too. Can a sofa have an aura? *
I love you for this comment, Bonnie Rae! You have articulated so beautifully the infusion of love in these old things from our elders. May the “aura” of that couch have landed it in the next perfect home! Ann