To the Editor:
This letter is about the milk of human kindness.
A week ago, we prepared to take an old settee and chair to be reupholstered in Ironwood. As my husband, Dick, loaded them into a borrowed pickup I had a premonition and said “that chair is going to bounce out.” His response was “no way,” and off we set.
We arrived at the upholsterer and Dick went to the office to see where to unload. When he returned to the truck he said, “Where’s the chair?” thinking that it had already been taken by a worker. When it turned out it was simply gone, we accepted that it had fallen out on the way and resigned ourselves that we would never see it again.
So, we dejectedly headed back to Ewen, looking rather hopelessly right and left. As we neared Merriweather we saw what seemed like a miracle. There was our chair, resting by the side of the road, as if inviting someone to come sit and watch the traffic go by.
We turned to pick it up and found that someone had picked up six small pieces, mostly decorative parts, and placed them carefully on the seat.
To the good Samaritan who saved our chair for us, we can’t thank you enough. How could he, or she, know that the chair and the companion settee came from the homestead farm where I grew up?
Edie (Eskola) Franzen