In the last two weeks we felt the loss of both a cultural icon and a long-time friend.

Both deaths caused me to pause and consider.  Lucky, and aware of it, I was relieved and reassured that  I am doing what I want to be doing.  What I think I should be doing.

You might have seen Steve Jobs’s Stanford commencement speech and while it acted like heated oil to several kernels of ideas, most significantly it made me wonder what I would do if one of my boys wanted to quit college and start some crazy business in my garage.  Or be a fisherman, as one claims he will.

Sharing this with a friend at dinner he wondered, “If he’s happy, what difference would it make?”  “It’s important to live up to your potential,” I replied and he asked further, “But how do you know if you are?”

Then he rose to pull the chicken from the oven leaving me with a mental party favor that I’ve carried around since – setting it on the counter here, loading it in the car there.  We won’t know, I suppose, any more than these artists knew their work would live for centuries.  At the time they were just making brushstrokes on wood or silk or porcelain.

All images from Exotic Taste: Orientalist Interiors by Emmanuelle Gaillard and Marc Walter published by The Verdome Press.  The book includes hundreds of images of rooms and objects influenced by the Far East, India and the Islamic world.  It’s stunningly beautiful and if you have a strong connection to Chinoiserie or porcelain or unbelievable tile, it is a must.  All images Marc Walter.  The publishers provided the book for review.

I mention that the Mrs. Livengood of this post was one of my mother’s best friends; I later realized she was one of mine.  It was her birthday yesterday and I thought we would throw some good wishes her way.  Krissy appeared in the previous post; she was helping me open my birthday presents.  This post originally appeared October 15, 2009.

You know those stories about celebrities who give their children controlled substances? And how you read these accounts and wonder, “What were they thinking?”

Well, my mother was a little guilty of this. When I was small and we lived in Atlanta my mother made a very good friend while we were on the playground. I, in turn, became very good friends with the friend’s daughter as these things sometime happen.

While my parents’ house was an ever evolving array of tasteful yet jazzy (probably department store) finds, Krissy Livengood’s parents’ house was not.

Krissy Livengood’s parents had a pair of Wassily chairs. When I walked through their living room I was mesmerized by the slats made of leather. With every visit I’m quite sure her mother anticipated wiping my grimy fingerprints from the cool chrome. I could not resist running my hand along that silvery steel.

They were wonderful. I was in awe of those chairs. In my memory the room where they resided was always quiet, but perhaps my ears were ringing. While everyone else found it so intriguing that Krissy’s father had one blue eye and one brown eye, I thought that merely a quirk of nature. The thing that made the Livengoods interesting – fascinating even – were those chairs.

We moved from Atlanta when I was eight, but the chair addiction was firmly established. Imagine my delight with Judith Miller’s new book, Chairs. Over one hundred chairs, beautifully shot by Nick Pope, on big pages, presented in chronological order. Truly a chair lover’s dream.

And a terrific red cover. Almost as good as having a Wassily of my own.

P.S. Mrs. Livengood, in true Southern fashion, has passed her chairs to her daughter. Who now goes by Kristin.

Chairs by Judith Miller was provided to me for review by the publisher, Conran Octopus. All photographs by Nick Pope. The Wassily chair is fourth from the top.