A Bureau, Some Blankies

A few days ago, a neighbor of mine was having a yard sale. He was the caretaker for an older gentleman, an only child, whose hoarder parents had long since passed away. The older gentleman lived in this house since he was a boy. The caretaker was selling a few things the cousins didn't want. I bought this mid-century hardwood bureau for a friend who asked me to keep my eye out for an inexpensive one:

It reeks of Old House, Not Enough Fresh Air, and Hoarders Lived Here. It needs to be refinished or repainted, but it is a beautifully solid piece of furniture, made to last:

To get the thing into my car required a lot of muscle. The caretaker tossed in some filthy rags to help pad the bureau as I shoved it over the delicate gaskets around the rear hatch of my car.

I took a closer look at the "rags" when I got home, gasped, and soaked them in Oxy Clean for half a day, then washed them in Woolite. This is what emerged:

A mid-century chenille baby's bed spread, done in mint green, salmon pink, pale yellow, and white. In the center, a darling stork surrounded by roses:

A satin-edged baby's blanket with a momma duck washing her baby duck:

This one was hand-made, and the momma's and baby's wings are stitched and slightly padded so they are 3-D:

And this reversible, white, blue, and pink machine-made blanket with two floral stripes and a pensive-looking bunny in the middle:

I have no way of proving it, but I strongly suspect these blankies belong to the gentleman who just died. They certainly are the style of baby things from the 1940s.

It's a little bit sad, and a little bit sweet, that these blankies have outlasted the man. But then, can't we say that of a lot of things?