Copyright © 1998 by PJ
Once I'd started making retirement plans, I honestly looked forward to slowing down a bit. An ad for a rocking chair that would bear the crest of my university caught my eye when I was paging through my latest copy of the alumni news. A rocking chair seemed like a good idea.
Ordering the thing was easy. Black. The crest in gold paint. I'd put it in the living room. Maybe spend some of those last days of professorial duties rocking now and then. I didn't think I'd have long to wait. A rocking chair didn't make a bit of sense for grading papers, but maybe drifting off in one would inspire ideas that would bring the last days of my long classroom career to an honorable closing. I couldn't wait for that chair.
After months went by, I called the university and, after talking to all the wrong people, got some sort of promise that the chair would be in my living room before too long. Then a letter came from the furniture manufacturer in a southern state on the eastern seaboard. The letter writer assumed I'd be pleased to have my chair delivered to the City of Industry, so close to my South Bay address on a large map. Wouldn't I be pleased to drive to the City of Industry and pick up a rocking chair in my sedan? Not at all. And I was growing tense giving any consideration to such an experience. Again, I called the university, knowing the right numbers and the right people. I needn't worry. The chair would be delivered to my door. Once again I could relax a few muscles, imagine the creaking sounds of rocking, the riveting visions of challenging ideas. That is, I had some hope of a calming influence about to enter my life until I picked a postcard out of my mailbox. It said some trucking company had tried to deliver my rocking chair and since I couldn't be found, I'd have to pick up my rocker in the City of Industry as soon as possible, etc., etc.
More phone calls. After strenuous negotiations affecting my eating habits and blood pressure, I gained a promise that that rocking chair would be delivered like other furniture gets delivered. The trucking firm would call the day before giving some notion as to what time the driver would arrive. I provided lengthy directions so that the driver might then find my doorway. On the day of delivery fortunately a friend was standing in the driveway above my apartment and helped the driver lift the chair from the truck. Before I signed for the chair, I insisted it be carried to my door. The driver left muttering under his breath. I was breathing hard. Never mind. I had a rocking chair.
My university had sold me the most uncomfortable rocking chair I've ever tried. At first, I ordered a plain corduroy rocking chair set and tried that. It covered up the university crest but didn't make that chair comfortable.
Years later I look back on the course of my retirement. It hasn't been relaxing. By now I've tossed out the rocker set I'd ordered. The rocker takes up room in my bedroomd, and I've stuffed pillows on the seat and behind the seat. I sit in it occasionally to put on my shoes. My granddaughter likes to climb in it and looks very pleased with the thing. I gave up rocking a long time ago and took up golf.