Many years ago, my parents drove to Los Angeles with a beautiful desk in the bed of a truck. It was for me.
That desk followed us to Texas, to Utah, where it sat prominently in three different homes.
When I refurbished an old kitchen desk with multiple drawers and spreading-out-book-space, we moved the desk into Tony's office. He enjoyed its use for many years.
The day came when Tony needed a bigger desk and I needed a smaller desk for my classroom. I gave the big Russian architecture desk to the new music teacher and carted the desk from my parents with the help of two colleagues.
It looked beautiful and classy.
Though it did have a few problems. The front drawer unhinged from the wall that kept everything inside. The trim around the front was partly broken.
The desk gave almost ten years of service in the classroom. But its condition worsened. A mysterious hole appeared in the side. The front drawer worsened and the tray with pencils, pens, paper clips, dumped out regularly. The desktop was rougher and the finish diminished.
When I retired, the desk was a gift to the new teacher who appreciated it immensely. But it came with a caveat, "If you no longer want it, please call me and I'll pick it up."
The day came. The new teacher had gotten a full scholarship to film school. He couldn't resist. One year later, I got the text.
I asked, Does the new teacher need it?
No she's bringing her own.
She doesn't want a desk with a broken drawer that slides out and dumps its contents?
No, she declined.
I didn't want the desk either, but it was mine and thirty-five years ago, my parents had driven it to Los Angeles. Just for me.
As we unloaded it from the back of the truck, a few drawer pulls fell off, the dent in the side looked bigger, and it definitely needed sanding and a new finish.
So I left it on the porch to start sanding, but it was such beautiful day, I brought my computer to work in my outside office--which would probably last until it rains--or until it was refinished.
The odds were with the rain, but I finished sanding and putting on three coats, yesterday.
Ode to treasured desks restored~~ and typing under the trees.
Pat Martinez
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