The Real Skinny: "I pretty much had the color down"

The real skinny (according to Girl): I pretty much had the color down. Mike told the nitty gritty of the bed, fabric and the ultimate demise of the spread. My story could be accurately embedded in his six-paragraph account.

Green Silk Bedspread, According to Girl

Green silk bedspread according to Girl: My taste in décor was not nearly as developed in 1968 as it is today. I now pull ideas from my sisters, my kids, photography books and the internet. In the sixties, my sisters were just kids; there were no babies, no money for photography books and above all, no Google. It makes me wonder how we ever survived.

The big event was finding the exact, perfect, most wonderful bedspread for our master bedroom. I’m not sure whether or not it’s acceptable to call an only bedroom a "master" bedroom, but we did. Mike said the choice of bedspread was mine.

Color was top priority. I wanted it to match his eyes. This was a journey to find the perfect green—perhaps best described as "ocean green."

Ocean green must be distinguished from the aqua blue of the ocean in southern Mexico. Beautiful as that was, it was the wrong color. Of course, the "Finding Nemo" blue water of the poor little fish’s delightful adventures was also the wrong color.

I needed the bold, deep, crashing greens of the sea, the colors of the Titanic’s ocean, and the strong expressive green of the waves cresting over the shores in Nantucket; that lonely green reflected by the waters teasing the lighthouse at the end of Long Island. The exact dynamic green I was looking for had to match the storm of the century—the color of the deep.

Our quest began near our apartment Glendale, then proceeded to take us through Brooklyn, Queens, and finally to Manhattan. It was in Manhattan, across from the Empire State Building, down the street from the Garden, at the famous Macy’s Department Store, that at last I found it.

There it was—expensive, silk, and one of a kind (remember, he did say it was my choice).

We credit carded this wonderful ocean colored addition to our possessions. This was the first time we had purchased something new for our home. It was my perfect storm.

Chapter 40 - Green Silk Bedspread

According to Boy: One of the very first things we bought when we moved into the Glendale apartment was a bed. When we got married my mother gave me a hundred dollars (in twenty-dollar bills), and told me to buy a nice set of box springs and a mattress. We did just that. I don’t think the used frame was anything to shout about, but the mattress and box springs were new. My mother really liked Evie, and she wanted to make sure Evie had a good bed. That was important to my mother.The second thing we bought (at least the second new thing) was a green silk bedspread. If I were to describe the color, I think I would call it "pea green." Perhaps there is no such color, but I still think that would be how I would describe it—almost an army green, but shiny.

It was really nice. It was made out of real silk, and it was quite thick. When we crawled under it (I know you’re not supposed to crawl under a bedspread—but we did), it was warm and relaxing. And that’s one of its attributes that I really liked. It just felt good from underneath. It had enough weight to hold the blanket down close to the body on a cold night.

While I liked the way it looked on the bed, and I liked the way it felt when I crawled under it, my favorite thing about that green silk bedspread was the way it felt to the touch.

Shortly after the acquisition of our new bedspread, we got a dog—Mister. Mister also liked the bedspread. Whenever we were gone, he would jump on the bed and lie on it. That’s when I bought "Cheetah." Cheetah was a cheetah pelt (discussed in greater detail in another chapter) that we bought in Greenwich Village. It was a real cheetah hide. The fur was very soft, and the hide underneath was well processed and soft as well. We just tossed Cheetah over the middle of the bedspread, and all was well. Mister liked it, and Cheetah handled a soapy cloth better than did the green silk bedspread.

By the time we were ready to move into the Village (two years later), Mr. Green Silk Bedspread moved into a trash can. We carefully folded it, much as one would fold a tattered American flag in preparation for an honorable disposal; then we tucked it in the bottom of the trash can. We did not want it to share its memories with some homeless guy in the park. It had, after all, done its job admirably for us—it deserved a respectable retirement.