Two Rooms. Two Couches.
I grew up in the era of the “front living room.” This was a more or less uninhabited space—except when company came over. I remember we had a maroon couch in there that, although old, looked new, simply because no one ever sat on it. That room was different from the “den.” The den went through a series of well-used couches, which, when we were finished with them, eventually ended up at the dump. It was the room with the TV, and it was thoroughly used by our family. The front room was nice to visit—but not used much. It was also a room where you had to be on your best behaviour: use proper intonation, mind your manners, and be very polite. After all, if you were in there, so were visitors. The den, on the other hand, was a place to sprawl out. To yell when the Leafs won the Cup (yes, it was 1967!). It was the place to snack and burp out loud—as long as Mom and Dad couldn’t hear. Why the story of the two couches? Because those two couches, those two rooms, represent a couple of (very use...