Mancaves and Aeries

My son Chris just finished installing what will be stage one in the formulation of his mancave. I'm sure Chris has been dreaming about the necessary components for the ideal mancave even before such a horrible term was coined, undoubtedly by some specialty sports network. In any event, he has put a large flat-screen plasma television with surround sound in his basement and arranged it in front of and around a large leather couch with enormous coffee table. According to Christine (my daughter-in-law), he gets up Sunday morning, heats up some wings, puts them in a bucket, opens the basement door and says "I'll see you tonight." As soon as his children grow up he is putting in a pool table. That will be nice because I will undoubtedly visit them more often. I used to be pretty good with a cue stick in my hand.

I've never felt the need for a mancave. If I had one I would be upstairs constantly to see what Kathie was doing. I would eventually either have to stay upstairs and watch the games, or Kathie would have to come down to my mancave in which case it wouldn't be a mancave anymore. This is a quandary I am putting off by the clever ploy of not putting one in.

If one of the definers of a mancave is a flatscreen television than we have one of sorts upstairs. I spend a lot of time up there watching sports or movies because our purchase of a 60 inch Panasonic plasma television has in fact ruined my life. When we had a 15 inch RCA that served us for at least the first half of our marriage we used to read and talk to each other, or take extended hikes in the Colorado mountains. Now we just sit in front of our high def screen and comment to each other about how clear the picture is. On winter nights it takes the place of the fireplace we never use. Those HD tvs put out a lot of heat.

But this room is more of an aerie than a mancave. It is in a loft for one thing. It is also Kathie's knitting room.

One might think a man would feel uncomfortable in such environs. In addition to our television which dominates the south wall, there are (time out while I go count) sixteen hooks on the west wall, each holding at least one thingee (skien?) of yarn. The different colored and textured yarns on the wall make an impressive pattern, but it isn't like having one of those plasticized slap up action enlargements of John Elway throwing a pass on the wall. The wall opposite holds two prints by Ray Knaub and one by R.C. Gorman. There are two other pieces over the television, one a stylized etching of the sun by Carol Vanous (Bartkus) and another an oil painting of a raw onion by Jeff Reeser. I remember crying (no irony intended) when Jeff gave me the painting the day before he graduated. It meant a lot.

We have a ridiculously heavy sofa sleeper in the room that no one has ever used after the first night. The floor is more luxurious. We also have Tetonish arm chair with pine trees and elks parading across the fabric. The chair is even more uncomfortable than the couch. There is a pine bench with drawers for yet more of Kathie's yarn that is actually quite comfortable. And there is a table in the middle of the room covered in knitting needles, stray pieces of yarn, cook books, novels, political rants, empty wine glasses and the like.

You can find us there most nights. Katherine will be in the elk chair puzzling over her latest knitting project. I will be on the couch watching tv while reading a book, more than likely nodding off.