Who Likes Bright Colors
My Grandmother Anna Nichols Kalp Beck must have some Gypsy blood flowing through her veins and passed it along to my Aunt Helen Beck Stahl. I say this because of the colors that they chose to decorate their homes. For an example, when you walked into my grandmother’s kitchen it looked like someone had plucked the tail feathers from a peacock.
The floor was covered in an intense reddish-maroon floor tile. The lower half of the wall was covered in bright blue Congoleum that was printed white liens to simulate tiles. Above the Congoleum, the walls were painted a bright yellow. It wasn’t quite as deep in color as yellow mustard, but darn close. Thankfully the ceiling remained white. But wait…there’s more. I think that Granddad Edson Beck had some mint green paint left over from the sitting room walls, because that’s what Grandma painted the homespun looking, handmade cabinets above the stove, sink, and granite-topped cabinet that sat to one side of the sink. She did keep that cabinet to match the ceiling, metal sink, and stove. AND there’s more. Apparently she didn’t have enough color yet…the ruffled curtains over the sink and another kitchen window were pale lavender. The odd thing is, although it was harsh upon entering her kitchen, it suited my Grandmother and Granddad didn’t complain.
My Aunt Helen was a little less in your face with colors, only because for the most part, you could see only one color at a time. Each of the rooms of her house had a different color. They weren’t the pale subdues hues in most homes, but the bright colors from south of the border. Bright turquoise graced the walls next to a hot red-orange melon color. In the next room might be a vibrant lime green. These were the downstairs rooms. I was never upstairs to see their bedrooms.
If you remember the ditty setting aside one day for laundry, one for ironing, one for baking, etc. Aunt Helen had that routine PLUS, each of those days she spring cleaned one room of her house.
This same aunt was struck by lightning several times. It was never a direct hit, but she was barefooted on a wet porch when the lightning struck close. The tingling in her feet made her dance. I’ve always wondered whether the bright colors reflected her joy and thankfulness of not being injured or killed by the lightning.