WHEN former Vice President Nelson Rockefeller died suddenly in the private company of a young lady, a fellow reporter who had covered Rockefeller for years couldn't hide his admiration. Let’s hear it for inventor
of the La-Z-Boy"Old Rocky died in the saddle," my friend said. "I can't think of a better way to go out."
I didn't argue with him at the time, but this week I read of a passing that stirred my male psyche even more than Rockefeller's testosterone-fueled exit. A 90-year-old man who led a vigorous life until the very end slipped off to meet his Maker while napping peacefully in his La-Z-Boy recliner.
What made it so perfect was that the deceased was Edwin Shoemaker, the man who invented the La-Z-Boy.
I owe Shoemaker a great debt. I can't think of a material possession that's enriched my life more than my La-Z-Boy -- except perhaps my PalmPilot mini-computer. And the Pilot is valuable mostly as an accessory to the La-Z-Boy. It enables me to grind out this column while stretched out in the recliner.
When I come home from a hard day at work, I'm happy to see my wife, my kids, my grandson, my dog and my dinner. But I can't enjoy any of them until I've situated myself in my La-Z-Boy. Lounging in its plush comfort quickly dissipates the pent-up stresses of the day. It's closer to bliss than Rocky ever got with his young lady.
My kids used to joke about all the time I spend in the La-Z-Boy, oblivious to how hard I work all day. My wife bought me my first La-Z-Boy as a gift because she thought its name fit me. But La-Z-Boys have nothing to do with laziness and Edwin Shoemaker, an energetic man himself, understood that.
"His concept was that everybody put in a good day's work and should be rewarded with a comfortable chair to sit in," said his son Robert.
For all the derision directed at me by members of my family, they vigilantly watch for me to get up so they can dash for the chair the second I move out. The first thing my grandson Corwin did when he learned to walk was race me for the La-Z-Boy. He got there first and scrambled up into the chair, looking very self-satisfied. I knew instantly that he'll grow up to be a fine man.
The daily comforts are wonderful, but I especially appreciate the trouble the La-Z-Boy has bailed me out of in times of duress. I can't count the hours of sleep I would have lost on hot and sticky summer nights if I hadn't slept in my lounger parked under a ceiling fan.
A medical procedure once left me leaking cerebral-spinal fluid. I couldn't sit up for a week without feeling like my skull was being crushed. Only the La-Z-Boy saved me.
A bad reaction to a prescription painkiller once had me literally writhing on the floor in the most unbearable misery. Again, the La-Z-Boy to the rescue. I rocked for a solid hour and focused my mind on the rhythm until the pain in my stomach subsided.
When I broke my leg and had to keep it elevated, I sat in the La-Z-Boy for three straight days without hardly moving. It kept me reasonably comfortable and gave me time to figure out how I could get on with my life.
I didn't think comfort could get any better until my wife gave me a big vibrating cushion for my La-Z-Boy for Christmas. I'm in love all over again.
I'll sit in the recliner tonight with a cold beverage in the cup holder built into the arm of the chair. Just before I drift off into one of those sweet La-Z-Boy naps, I'll drink a grateful toast to Edwin Shoemaker.
David Shapiro is managing editor of the Star-Bulletin.
He can be reached by e-mail at editor@starbulletin.com.
Volcanic Ash runs every Saturday in the Star-Bulletin.
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