The Orange Chair and the Tree

Across Westside Drive from the Library, visible from the periodical reading area near the Reference Desk, stands a lone molded plastic orange chair with rusted metal legs. It appears to have been intentionally placed under the once shady branches of an oak tree at the edge of the informal construction workers' parking lot situated between a white one-level ranch house and a dark brown barn structure.

I never paid much attention in the summer or fall. I guess when the construction guys wanted to take a break, they needed a place to perch. Where they took it from is anyone's guess. But the workers are long gone and the parking lot has not welcomed any customers in weeks, especially during the blizzards and with the banks of snow that accumulated.

The weathered orange chair seems jarringly out of place, beyond usefulness to anyone. Yet there it sits, waiting for warmer weather and an uptick in utility. Hundreds of cars pass by it every day. Dozens of pedestrians jog past. Birds fly overhead and squirrels rumble about in the tree overhead. It doesn't even protect the ground beneath from snow, only gets buried up to the top of its back repeatedly.

One would think the owner of the chair would have taken it inside for the winter. Perhaps tucked it into the nearby barn for refuge from the battering winter storms. In the grand scheme of things, its such a minor detail. Who cares if some rogue chair, stolen or borrowed or owned, is left to the ravages of Mother Nature and Father Time?

But the darn thing speaks to me of community and caring - or lack thereof - during a time when we are facing some perhaps scary times. Who around me has been left out in the cold? How are they weathering the storms of life? Are they still perfectly sound, just patiently waiting for someone to give them an opportunity to be useful again?

I just got an email from a friend, an early statistic of the souring economy. She lost her job nine months ago due to cut funding for her employing organization. Without the support of friends and family, she thought she would go insane, even while trying to focus on spending time with her father and her grandchildren. When she finally connected with work, her words spoke of how good it felt to feel useful again.

In these uncertain times, it is so important to see the orange chairs sitting out there, abandoned but still perfectly good, and to remember to suggest to those needing a good seat to check under the naked trees!