What did the family living room look like when you were a child?
Well, let's see, our kitchen, boot, laundry, dining and living room all shared the same space. Dividing the kitchen from the living room was a 4 foot high, 6 foot long wall cluttered with knick-knacks, books and what-have-yous. We had windows on nearly every outer wall to let in the light and let out the noise.
I remember a desk my father made and painted deep brown. It held a collection of art books and a collection of home fix it books - not to mention a gratuitous heap of laundry that needed folding and putting away. Hanging on the wall above this desk was a picture of a woman sketched by my Grandmother (maternal) in pencil. She (the picture not my Grandmother) had long dark hair slicked back, her shoulders were high and bare and her sultry face oozed 1950's glamour.
Framed and displayed were our 8x10' school photos. A hideous collection. Why, I questioned at the time (but totally get it now), would mom hang our pictures when we were crawling the walls on a regular basis? Like she needed a reminder we were around?
We had one sofa - a bit worn to say the least - which comfortably seated 3 (there were 8 of us). We fought for a seat when it was time to watch television. We had a little 17 inch b&w set which I accidently knocked over one morning as I grabbed my backpack running for the bus. It shattered to pieces. My father cried.
Hanging above our humble sofa was a round beveled mirror. It was an heirloom and very precious to my mother which I accidently dropped one fateful day. It, too, shattered in pieces and yes, my mother cried.