We of the North American civilization (using the term loosely and not without certain a sense of irony) take pride in our achievements in science, medicine, economics, and education. It is a fact that we have indeed surpassed the previous generations of ages past in having a standard of living that is and would be the envy of all the world since time began. That is why I am fascinated when I see people pay money to buy stuff that is designed to make our houses look as if they are just a literal stone's throw away from looking like a cave.
It seems that we who live inside have some innate desire to pretend we are outside. We place windows in walls that we have first built to keep out the outside and then place the windows so we can observe with a certain trepidation that very same outside. These windows range from peep holes to huge wall-to-ceiling openings of every shape imaginable. Some windows open wide, some never open, and some are tinted, but the one thing that is almost a given, is that they can all be covered. That covering is usually a cloth or some painted board type material made to look like either a furred skin with flower and fauna patterns embossed or printed, or a wooden wall (perhaps in a forest of trees?). These coverings sometimes even cloak over a another film like or sheer material that seems to be designed to make one think one is either peering through a fog or else one's cataract operation is soon due.
These same people, who have paid high fees to have natural gas and the consequential ease and warmth of central heating in their homes, bring stones and wood into the house to build fireplaces because they think it's classy and modern. I suspect it is eerily truly only our natural urge speaking to us and has been for eons, except that eons ago one didn't have to worry about higher insurance rates as a consequence.
The fact that this otherwise seemingly intelligent woman would arbitrarily decide that instead of the nice shade of yellow, or green ,or blue, or whatever previously judged to be perfect shade of paint she had chosen some months prior to her wallpaper purchase, seems to be a reflection on the lack of an outlet for her creative urges which were not able to be met in those 'pre-blog' days of the 50's and 60's. (I have never wallpapered).
As a consequence, Mom would put her energy, money and effort "one more time" to cover the chosen room all over, ceiling to floor, wall to wall, with either flowers, leaves or fairies dancing among some type of fern, wood grain, storytime characters, sports athletes, and so many colour and size variations of paisely that any woodland scene on the wall would have been more welcome. Once , in the kitchen, a design with stones accentuated with bits of painted ivy growing out and about was hung in imitation of some far away Welsh kitchen on the banks of the Irish Sea. Mom even took the next step into high interior fashion when she varnished the wood grain wall paper in the living room. It didn't look too bad except for the solid brown plastic corner strip that was nailed to the wall. What was with that anyhow? As if no one would realize there is a place where the walls meet in a corner! As if it was some sign of bad architecture or something if you didn't make them stand out. The room had CORNERS in it--four of them. Did we need to have them marked?
Mom papered every room of the house on a regular paper/paint rotation with eagerness and a certain finesse rivalled by any paper professional of the era. She could mix paste, measure and cut , move furniture, and climb step ladders with an ease and agility not commonly found in most young mothers of four, even in the rural areas of Canada today.
There was only one quirky little trade mark that made Mom's attempt at self-made home decor her very own. I am not sure if it was an indication of any type of passive aggressive tendency, accidental or on purpose, conscious or unconcious, brought on because she never received any help from my Dad except perhaps (and I am not even sure of this) a simple, "I see you did some papering" comment whenever he came in off the field.
This little trade mark showed up even if the edges were done with a perfect neatness of creases in the corners, the ceiling border level to the eye, and the pattern on the wall straight as a plumb line. For whatever the reason, practical or psychological, and never seen in any wallpapered rooms in any of my friends' homes, the electrical switch and receptacle plates, as well as the light socket fixtures were never taken off during any of these room renovations. They were, instead, papered over with just the little black light switch and plug-in holes being neatly poked through the newly hung paper. At day's end the radio could perhaps be plugged into a clump of red roses, or the light bulb shining from a limestone rock in the ceiling or even a piece of colorful fruit. I well remember my curling iron being plugged into (as fortune would have it) the mouth of one of the cutest little kittens frolicking over, and over, and over, in a meadowland scene.
It often didn't take long for busy kiddie fingers to finish poking all around those switch plates leaving the consequential ripped wallpaper to gradually get dirty and worn away
.... just to be papered another day.
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