By Alex Berger
Sleep faster, we need the pillows. — Yiddish proverb
I do not know how that old bed came into my parents’ possession. I only know it was on the scene practically my entire life. It sat in my parents’ four-room flat on the Lower East Side of Manhattan and was an integral part of the family.
With eight children, a cat and a boarder, they had put the bed to good use for many years. It was not unique, nor was it pretty. Instead, it was a small, three-quarter variety with a box spring, battered mattress and bent metal frame support.
In fact, we had to place a telephone book under one of the corners to make it stand correctly. It should have slept only one person, but was regularly called upon to accommodate two and sometimes three of us in emergency situations, of which there were many.
The feeling of sleepiness when you are not in bed, and can’t get there, is the meanest feeling in the world. — Edgar Watson Howe
If I remember correctly, my father and oldest brother, Jack, shared it until Jack was drafted into the U.S. Army. My father did not sleep with my mother. He had to sleep in the boys’ bedroom with his four sons while Mom slept in the girls’ bedroom with her four daughters. We never did find out how they managed to have eight children.
Then with the changing of the guard, Milton, the baby of the family, took over and slept in the spot vacated by Jack. On special occasions, Larry and I took turns sleeping with Papa.
Did anyone ever have a boring dream? — Ralph Hodgson
Sister Florence (No. 4) decided to marry and was followed by Jack, Miriam (No. 5), Annie (No. 3), Larry (No. 2) , Shirley (No. 6) and Milton (No. 8). I (No. 7) found myself the only sibling left in my parents’ house. I inherited that bed when my father opted to move into the more spacious second bed abandoned by my brothers in the boys’ bedroom.
It was strange sleeping in the bed by myself. It felt roomy. I had that bed to myself until I enlisted in the Air Force. Four years later, I returned home to reclaim it. The bed kept me company thereafter and helped me get through college. I studied on that bed, wrote drafts for college papers and worried the whole night before final examinations on it and finally obtained my college degree, which I believe would never have happened without that bed. I also mused about many a girlfriend on it.
One of the most adventurous things left us is to go to bed. For no one can lay a hand on our dreams. — E.V. Lucas
Then Gloria came along and I married her. After much discussion, I finally convinced her to allow me to bring that bed to our new home in Queens as a memento. It took a lot of convincing because the bed by this time was long in the spring. Gloria disguised it with a pretty slip cover.
Then we had our two sons, Jon and Vance. Jon had his own small bed until he went off to college, married and was gone. When Vance outgrew his bed, the old bed was pressed into service once again.
Sleeping is no mean art: for its sake one must stay awake all day. — Friedrich Nietzsche
Vance, like his dad, loved the old three-quarter and he slept in it during his teenage years until he pranced off to college and married two seconds after receiving his diploma. Gloria once again placed the slip cover over the bed and that was where it remained, out of action, for many more years.
That we are not much sicker and much madder than we are is due exclusively to that most blessed and blessing of all natural graces, sleep. — Aldous Huxley
Then the day of reckoning arrived. Gloria decided to redecorate the house. We bought new furniture and found there was no longer room for the bed in the house.
“We can still use it as a couch,” I said.
Gloria shook her head.
“How about sticking it in the garage?”
“No room,” she answered.
“We can donate it to charity.”
“Are you out of your mind?” she exclaimed. “It’s so far gone they’d charge us for disposing it.”
I knew this was the end of the road. I took the old bed apart — mattress and bedspring on one side, the bent metal frame on the other. I picked up the crushed telephone book support and found it was dated 1988.
I studied the pieces that were such an important part of my life for two days until Gloria said it was time to get rid of it. The next day, Jon’s van drove up and carted away my treasure. I waved as the van turned the corner.
“I will never see that bed again,” I whispered to myself as I entered the house. “Good-bye, old friend. Cheers.”
Contact Alex Berger at timesledgernews@cnglocal.com.
