I Am a Bed Named Jenney @Beth Yount

Some folks call me a “spool bed”

I may look like a series of sewing spools

From a gigantic textile mill

But I am much more

I want to be called a “Jenny Lind” bed

I am named after a beautiful Swedish Singer

Who came to America

The “It Girl” of the 1850’s

It is said she slept in a bed

Just like me

In my long life I have been many places

I believe that

My very first home was probably

Ottumwa, Iowa

Circumstances changed

I moved north in 1926 with my family

to Menomonie, Wisconsin

For the past fifty years

I have happily stayed

In the same special place

On Atlantic Avenue in Highland, California

I have stories to share

About where I have been

And who has loved me

I began to be, sometime in the 1920’s

Plain sticks of cherry wood were chosen

By a man named George, a teacher and coach

He found new joy and skill in woodworking

In the vacant high school shop

He transformed the rough sawn pieces

of fine cherry wood

Into perfect concentric spools

Evening after evening, month after month

He carefully turned pieces of wood on a lathe

Glued the pieces together

Carefully sanded and varnished

I became a handsome Jenny Lind bed

For his little daughter,

Named Mary Katherine

For over 20 years I resided in the rear bedroom

In our family home in Oakwood Heights

But I would be moving again, this time, west

I am not a twin bed I am not a double bed

I am a bit shorter and a bit narrower

Than beds are today

I am not “standard size”

I know I am just one of a kind

Not substandard, just unique

Beth makes custom sheets to fit me

I still have old, squeaky, coiled springs

An ancient, made to order striped ticking mattress

I know I sadly sag in my middle

That happens with age

I have frequently heard it said

Even though I am almost one hundred

“ Perhaps we should have a new mattress made”

I have heard many times

For eighteen, happy years Lisa Beth loved me

She didn’t mind if I made noise

Whenever she turned over

Rolled into the comfortable

Chasm in my middle

I think she felt content, protected

Held warmly. securely cuddled

Even before I became Lisa’s bed

There were several years

When I was the only bed

That John and Beth owned

I certainly was not designed for two

They were young. poor and in love

Didn’t ever seem to mind

Cuddling tightly like spoons in a drawer

In my short narrow, space

Even today

I am happy when one of my family

Returns home for a brief visit

When asked “which bedroom?”

They say without any thought

“I’ll sleep in the soft, old

Jenny Lind bed”

I know I am old, but I am still needed

I am attractive, if you like antiques

I am useful If you don’t mind my squeaks and lumps

I believe I have aged well