DEATH BED HASN’T SHAKEN ONCE.....YET
It has been the talk of friends and family. Some can’t believe we would bring something like this into our house. Yet there is a peace associated that set this apart from a truly haunted piece of vintage furniture. The recently acquired, and newly employed spindle bed, probably from the late 1800's (a similar bed is photographed in a booklet on heritage bedsteads in Ontario), was used by a Presbyterian, then United Church Minister, in Toronto, to accommodate "the recently deceased" in their home, for a final viewing for family. It was in a small, side-street bungalow, in recent years, not far off the mainstreet of Gravenhurst, Ontario, here in the District of Muskoka.
It’s not every husband who would have the gall to buy his loving wife a "death bed," as the former owner called it without much affection. She had sort of been stuck with it, as an estate piece from her father, and no overnight visitor to the home would dare sleep upon it. While it is true there was some trepidation about bringing a death bed into our happy and healthy home, we are afterall folks who have respect for those who have crossed, and encounters with the paranormal are eagerly anticipated, not feared.
I wanted to give you an update about the bed and its use up to this point. Admittedly there were a few sleep-broken nights getting adjusted to a stiff, custom made mattress for the short, three-quarters width bedstead.....which is gorgeous whether it is haunted or not. There has been a connection with about 3. a.m., when the occupant is awoken by something or other. We can’t really rest any liability for this on the bed itself, or its former occupants. There has been nary a shake or shudder, levitation or tipping. While it is a tad short for us (it’s true they were shorter on an average back then, than us today) it’s none the less comfortable and has a patina of cultural history we adore.
We love history. We love folk history even better. Ghosts. They were folk, once, so we love them too. We’ll keep you posted on the spiritual potential of an antique bedstead, now serving the slumber interests of the family here at Birch Hollow.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
GHOSTS COMING WITH THE DEATH BED?
WE DON’T THINK SO -
As we have been working, for the six weeks, selling off a large quantity of historic books and paper, on behalf of a local estate, we haven’t had too much time for anything else other than business and subsequent "rest from business."
One of the prized acquisitions is what the family called the "Death Bed." It is a fairly modest, late 1800's wooden bed, owned by a Toronto Minister. The bed was used from the period of the First World War up to the 1940's, to rest the deceased at the Minister’s home, for families of lesser means to support a more elaborate viewing and funeral. For decades it was used in this capacity, and while it was a conversation piece, set up in a guest bedroom, in a Muskoka District residence, nobody ever slept on it for obvious reasons. For the most of its structural existence, the prior occupants of the bed, were those lodged in eternal slumber.
Why would someone seek out such an item? Well, I love provenance, and I have great respect for the family we represented, and I suppose to also prove a point, stated on this site many times, that we haven’t met a ghost we didn’t like. If this piece has any patina, other than the aging of the wood, we’re quite prepared to get acquainted. It is well documented in paranormal history, that objects can carry with them the essences of the dearly departed. Cradles that rock themselves, rocking chairs without a mortal companion, organs and pianos that play by themselves, and in the case of Mackenzie House, in Toronto, (former home of the great Scot, William Lyon Mackenzie, a pivotal player in the Rebellion of Upper Canada, 1837), where it has been reported his newspaper press might be heard running in the wee hours unattended.
There is nothing sinister about buying this bed or for that matter, residing upon it for a good night’s sleep, which I intend to pursue. Yet if anything was to be haunted, this might be a good vehicle, as it was at the center of great emotion and sadness for many parlor viewings of the deceased. Admittedly it’s a bed that most would find a macabre reminder of old days and simple ways, when on the other hand, I find it a fascinating piece of Canadian social / cultural heritage. Folks didn’t die in this bed afterall. They were placed upon it, instead of being positioned in a formal casket / coffin. They didn’t depart this mortal coil upon its kind mattress. It undoubtedly looked very peaceful, which I believe is the aura still attached. None the less, it is a kind of experiment, to see if we get an enhanced slumber or just a regular old sleep as we would benefit from any bedstead.
When I told Suzanne I wanted to purchase the bed from the estate, she rolled her eyes, gave me "the look," but that eventually turned to a detectable half-grin, as it was pretty obvious I had been keenly interested after hearing the story. I assured her that I would never utter to friends and family that "My wife was on her death bed last night," or that she has "gone to her death bed," as obviously this would be in poor taste. In our collection we have many strange pieces that she has grown quite accustomed to by immersion. I usually drag the item home and it resides here a week or more before she finds it, and then she can’t resist my begging to keep it! I told her she would get the last laugh on this eccentric collector, when she pens my biography after I’ve also fallen from this coil of life. I can just imagine the adjectives she will use to profile my looney actions and reactions for all these years of married bliss. I plan to attach my spirit to quite a few of my favorite pieces, as you probably can imagine.
I am constantly in quest of significant provenance that has a strong human-contact patina, and I imagine how central this humble, modestly appointed bed was, for those few days, intense moments, for those in mourning. Yet it was very much central to the celebration of life, and kinship known and appreciated. As it was a pedestal that brought an unfortunate reality to its prominence, it was the same platform of a spiritual reckoning, that the afterlife had begun, and peace and calm returned to a travelled soul, as before birth. Some have felt us mad for bringing such a piece into our own happy home, and my response remains, that it wasn’t purchased as a novelty, or as a means of inspiring another chapter in our own ghost associations. It is a piece of Canadian history regardless, and it deserves respect for the services it has rendered, to benefit many families by its comfortable embrace of loved ones.
I will duly advise if anything particular or peculiar develops from our new Birch Hollow bedstead. And should it prove a haunted piece, we trust it will be an enhancement like all the others, and be friendly toward us, as we will be respectful of its unique heritage.
WE DON’T THINK SO -
As we have been working, for the six weeks, selling off a large quantity of historic books and paper, on behalf of a local estate, we haven’t had too much time for anything else other than business and subsequent "rest from business."
One of the prized acquisitions is what the family called the "Death Bed." It is a fairly modest, late 1800's wooden bed, owned by a Toronto Minister. The bed was used from the period of the First World War up to the 1940's, to rest the deceased at the Minister’s home, for families of lesser means to support a more elaborate viewing and funeral. For decades it was used in this capacity, and while it was a conversation piece, set up in a guest bedroom, in a Muskoka District residence, nobody ever slept on it for obvious reasons. For the most of its structural existence, the prior occupants of the bed, were those lodged in eternal slumber.
Why would someone seek out such an item? Well, I love provenance, and I have great respect for the family we represented, and I suppose to also prove a point, stated on this site many times, that we haven’t met a ghost we didn’t like. If this piece has any patina, other than the aging of the wood, we’re quite prepared to get acquainted. It is well documented in paranormal history, that objects can carry with them the essences of the dearly departed. Cradles that rock themselves, rocking chairs without a mortal companion, organs and pianos that play by themselves, and in the case of Mackenzie House, in Toronto, (former home of the great Scot, William Lyon Mackenzie, a pivotal player in the Rebellion of Upper Canada, 1837), where it has been reported his newspaper press might be heard running in the wee hours unattended.
There is nothing sinister about buying this bed or for that matter, residing upon it for a good night’s sleep, which I intend to pursue. Yet if anything was to be haunted, this might be a good vehicle, as it was at the center of great emotion and sadness for many parlor viewings of the deceased. Admittedly it’s a bed that most would find a macabre reminder of old days and simple ways, when on the other hand, I find it a fascinating piece of Canadian social / cultural heritage. Folks didn’t die in this bed afterall. They were placed upon it, instead of being positioned in a formal casket / coffin. They didn’t depart this mortal coil upon its kind mattress. It undoubtedly looked very peaceful, which I believe is the aura still attached. None the less, it is a kind of experiment, to see if we get an enhanced slumber or just a regular old sleep as we would benefit from any bedstead.
When I told Suzanne I wanted to purchase the bed from the estate, she rolled her eyes, gave me "the look," but that eventually turned to a detectable half-grin, as it was pretty obvious I had been keenly interested after hearing the story. I assured her that I would never utter to friends and family that "My wife was on her death bed last night," or that she has "gone to her death bed," as obviously this would be in poor taste. In our collection we have many strange pieces that she has grown quite accustomed to by immersion. I usually drag the item home and it resides here a week or more before she finds it, and then she can’t resist my begging to keep it! I told her she would get the last laugh on this eccentric collector, when she pens my biography after I’ve also fallen from this coil of life. I can just imagine the adjectives she will use to profile my looney actions and reactions for all these years of married bliss. I plan to attach my spirit to quite a few of my favorite pieces, as you probably can imagine.
I am constantly in quest of significant provenance that has a strong human-contact patina, and I imagine how central this humble, modestly appointed bed was, for those few days, intense moments, for those in mourning. Yet it was very much central to the celebration of life, and kinship known and appreciated. As it was a pedestal that brought an unfortunate reality to its prominence, it was the same platform of a spiritual reckoning, that the afterlife had begun, and peace and calm returned to a travelled soul, as before birth. Some have felt us mad for bringing such a piece into our own happy home, and my response remains, that it wasn’t purchased as a novelty, or as a means of inspiring another chapter in our own ghost associations. It is a piece of Canadian history regardless, and it deserves respect for the services it has rendered, to benefit many families by its comfortable embrace of loved ones.
I will duly advise if anything particular or peculiar develops from our new Birch Hollow bedstead. And should it prove a haunted piece, we trust it will be an enhancement like all the others, and be friendly toward us, as we will be respectful of its unique heritage.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
WHEN BUSINESS CALLS - EVEN WHEN THE THOREAUESQUE BECKONS....
I must offer an apology for my lethargy as of late. It has been very much the case that business has come before pleasure. And while it is true that I garner great joy working in the antique profession, nothing can trump my forays in writing at Birch Hollow. But as the accountant in this household is currently of the opinion we should balance the books, it was necessary for awhile to put other, more enjoyable pursuits aside.
We have had the privilege of selling off a considerable quantity of interesting Canadiana, antiquarian books, old paper and some wonderful advertising nostalgia. Now we are close to completion and we can honestly say that the past six weeks have been exciting and well worth experiencing. There just hasn’t been much time for anything else, and seeing as I have for long and long subscribed to the philosophy of dear old Mr. Fezziwig’s (Dickens, A Christmas Carol) belief, that "money isn’t everything," I do intend to happily return to my cherished blog sites, of which there are numerous, and pen copiously once again. As a poor writer I shall continue following this life-long path.
Today the forest canopy is filling in, and the lilac buds are growing ever more significant, ready soon to burst into bloom. The ferns are poking their heads up through the soil and our patch of trilliums has almost doubled from years past. There are a few blackflies but not so bad.
Once again, my apologies for this rather unanticipated but profitable hiatus.
I must offer an apology for my lethargy as of late. It has been very much the case that business has come before pleasure. And while it is true that I garner great joy working in the antique profession, nothing can trump my forays in writing at Birch Hollow. But as the accountant in this household is currently of the opinion we should balance the books, it was necessary for awhile to put other, more enjoyable pursuits aside.
We have had the privilege of selling off a considerable quantity of interesting Canadiana, antiquarian books, old paper and some wonderful advertising nostalgia. Now we are close to completion and we can honestly say that the past six weeks have been exciting and well worth experiencing. There just hasn’t been much time for anything else, and seeing as I have for long and long subscribed to the philosophy of dear old Mr. Fezziwig’s (Dickens, A Christmas Carol) belief, that "money isn’t everything," I do intend to happily return to my cherished blog sites, of which there are numerous, and pen copiously once again. As a poor writer I shall continue following this life-long path.
Today the forest canopy is filling in, and the lilac buds are growing ever more significant, ready soon to burst into bloom. The ferns are poking their heads up through the soil and our patch of trilliums has almost doubled from years past. There are a few blackflies but not so bad.
Once again, my apologies for this rather unanticipated but profitable hiatus.
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