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.