Beds not just for sleeping

(this was a school essay so it’s not that exciting)

Beds: not just for sleeping

Alexa Davis
English
Holden 6-4
9-28-06

Alexa Davis
6-4
9-28-06

Sticky salt water was devouring slices of shore as petite Cecilia Samantha Gassotte peaked over the many confused and uncertain immigrants to see the dockworkers unloading her beautiful bedstead. Traveling on a jarring ocean schooner all the way from France, Cecilia, her bed frame and family didn’t have time for rest. They slowly made their trek over the Sabine River into East Texas. Finally Cecilia and her white wrought iron bed settled in Angelina County, slightly northeast of Lufkin.
After marrying Samuel Gibson, Cecilia became known as Ma Gibson. Ma Gibson bore a daughter Hattie. Later, Hattie married Josiah Hawkins. They raised five children the youngest of whom was Jofa who was my great grandmother. Being the youngest of five children, my great grand mother remained spoiled. Every night little Jofa would ask Hattie (Mamma Hawkins) if she could ‘have a sleepover’ at Ma Gibson’s house. So Mamma Hawkins would walk Jofa down the grimy path to Ma Gibson’s house. Jofa and Cecilia would snuggle down in the beautiful bed framed by the white wrought iron. Just before the sun had put on his pajamas and closed his vast red eyes Jofa would cry to go home because she was home sick. The invention of central heating was still not available when Mama Hawkins was in her 70’s. One night, they lit a fire to keep warm. But soon fire with her scorching hot tongues slurped up the entire house. No one died, but one of the few items that survived was the old iron bed.
When Cecilia died, she had passed down the bed to my great grand mother, Jofa. Somehow, in the scheme of things, my mother received the white wrought iron bed, and slept in it until she went to college. The beautiful bed frame lived in the solitude of the cobweb community (also know as an attic) until young Alexa needed a ‘big girl’ bed. Tanya, my mother who had always wanted to continue the tradition of the bed, passed it down to me. Because our family bed resembled the bed of my favorite silent companion, a doll, named Samantha, I was joyful to receive the bedstead. Samantha now lives in the back of my closet and only comes out on special occasions. But my bed lives at the front of the room, the center of attention and stands tall and proud.

As you could have guessed one of my family’s most important heirlooms is my white wrought iron bed frame. This white queen sized bed has life- like flowers on the head board. It has very tiny spots where you can see some white paint chipped away from years of use like an underbelly of a penguin. This bed represents our family because it is solid like our Christian faith and old fashioned like our values. My bed has never broken and our family has never broken our relationships with each other. This bed was made by iron workers in France, and Cecilia was born there too, so I am a part French. An antique at 180 years old, you could imagine what history the piece of furniture must have seen.

The bed was one of the few things that survived the fire so I am quite lucky that I have this bed stead. Not even my grandfather’s sister (also named Jofa) has any thing from the old farm house. I think most of my ancestors must have been strong willed and determined to come all the way from France. Cecilia and her family immigrated to America for new opportunities and religious freedom. I am so proud that I can continue the tradition of the sturdy old fashioned bed.