Skip to main content

Natural Awakenings Metro Phoenix & Northern Arizona

My Antique Brass Bed

Tracy Patterson

For some reason the article on page 38 in this issue reminded me of the old becoming new to me, via the numerous antiques I received earlier in my life—a brass bed, a secretary desk, a trunk, a couple of small china cabinets, and a variety of dishes and knickknacks.

I don’t even remember where I got most of my beloved treasures, but the brass bed was a Christmas present that came from an attic in an old cottage at a lake that my family used to visit when I was very young. It was quite a bed with its rickety brass frame, old wire mesh on wood supports, and a piece of plywood that lay between the mesh and the mattress. And what a mattress it was, a three-quarter size that was as basic as it gets, and no box spring.

I was horse crazy, and when my mum decorated my room, she made a wonderful bedspread with horses on it and a bright green skirt. My antique brass bed became a playground of sorts that I used to make a “fort” or a “yacht” right on the bed, tying rope from the headboard to the footboard and draping blankets to make a cozy area inside. It also served as a hospital bed for my dogs when I would bandage them up and “cure” them of whatever ailed them in the particular scene I had created at the time.

Looking back, it was the perfect bed for a child, and I didn’t notice it then, but as I grew older I realized that my bed was darn uncomfortable! Still, I persevered for many years, into my 30s actually, before I realized that I wasn’t getting a good night’s sleep and that it would be in my best interest to find a more comfortable bed. My brass bed then became a spare bed, which wasn’t ideal for company on two levels—comfort, and if there were two people it was a mighty tight fit.

The day came when I made the very sad decision that my brass bed had to find a new home. I no longer had space to have it set up in a spare bedroom, and I didn’t have the room to store it. I was very emotionally attached to my bed, so it wasn’t easy parting with it. I took it to an antique store and had to just walk away and not look back.

I’ve often wondered what became of my antique brass bed. Perhaps it was a Christmas present for another young girl, like I was when I received the bed, and that it helped to serve as a source for her imagination and play growing up.

Tracy