Brandy's Brilliant Universe

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I find stories in every hour of my day and on every day of my life. Yes, I find it in something run-of-the-mill like picking up repaired furniture; this is even a story to me. I wrote this a few months ago about my trip to pick up some furniture at Brandy’s. Brandy has an antique furniture repair store in the next town over.
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I had to go pick up my repaired antique table and shelf today.
I take my things to this man who works 6am-2pm.
I can't imagine dropping off anything at 6am, but it's always nice to know that I can.
Anyway, the furniture repairman in question is named Brandy.
His workshop is in an old building that now houses an antique store/café/and a vintage/used clothing shop.

When you open the door to his shop, it's like opening the door to another world, more like a literal curiosity shop, I'd say. I guess that's why I always look forward to going there. And perhaps, when I could have attempted to make a small repair myself to something, I think, "Oh, great! I'll have to take this to Brandy!"

Anyway, it is a rather dimly lit workshop, probably twice the size of my garage, and is entirely filled with repaired and broken furniture with barely any room to walk around. Its walls are covered with all sort things (old signs - "Nickels here" with an arrow pointing downward, cuckoo clocks, paintings, posters, an oar, a metal wheel, well, you get the drift). It's a lot of everything I think that most others would have thrown out, but Brandy has seen something captivating and compelling in each bit and piece, as I did, when I took it all in.

The most interesting things he has up on the wall near the doorway are several old type boxes.
They are these wooden boxes that used to hold, well, typeface. So, each box has about 50 small compartments, and he has four of these boxes with each and every compartment filled with some sort of treasure. I swear it's like looking at one of my daughter's "I Spy" books.

There are buttons ("Make It in Massachusetts", oh, an oldie but a goodie!), pieces of jewelry, small paper pictures, wooden spools, coins, figurines, marbles, and even broken bits of things, but the broken bit is not so broken that the object looks abstract; each bit is a recognizable piece of "thing" that just came off the end of "some."

Anyway, I told Brandy my name and then said that I was there to pick up my table and shelf. He scratched his head and had a think.

"Hmmm. there's the shelf."
He had pointed to a tarp which hung over a bench.
Um, I didn't see the shelf.
He bent over and picked up the tarp.
Voila! There was my shelf!
(By the way, Brandy has x-ray vision! It just amazed me that with the wall-to-wall furniture in his small little space that he knew exactly where my shelf was.)
I picked up the shelf and said I was going to run it out to my car.
When I came back, my table was sitting there.
I was disappointed that I didn't get to see where my table appeared from.
I half expected that while I was gone, he had put a tarp over a large table, tapped it with his oar, pulled the tarp off, and there was my table where it had not been before.

He looked a bit confused and said, "I can't find your slip." I then remembered that my shelf had some white piece of paper taped to it, and I said, "Oh, it's on the shelf. I'll run back out to the car and get it."

When I came back, he was flipping through his receipt book, still looking a bit puzzled.
I said, "Here it is!" and handed him the receipt. (Only $80; he does excellent work, too!)
He took a look at it, looked a bit less puzzled, and then said, "Oh, I know why I'm confused."
I asked, "Why?
He said, "I've got you confused with someone else."
I said, "Well, I certainly hope she's got a more exciting life than me!"
He laughed and said, "She is Jane, and she brought in a table and a shelf. And, you are Jean, and you brought in a table and a shelf."
Doo-doo-doo-doo, Doo-doo-doo-doo!
[Err, queue them from "The Twilight Zone".]
I said, "Oh, I could see how that could be confusing."
I took out my checkbook and paid him.
Then, I turned to the type boxes and said, "I just love these. Wow, so much stuff…they're great."
He laughed, and then he said, "Well, I guess they're full of it, like me."
I laughed, thanked him, and picked up my table and left.
I think I'm going to have to break something just so I can go back and take pictures of it all!

So, today, that’s what I did!
Yes, I took off my Hello Kitty baseball cap, and put on my Clark Kent fedora.
Actually, that’s a lie. I did wear my Hello Kitty baseball cap.
See!



But, I do have a vintage Stetson fedora and fake press pass* in case I should ever get a gig with the “Daily Planet”.



*I was ordained “Press” by answering some ad in the back of Rolling Stone.

All silliness aside, well, until I decide to be silly again, I thought, “Wow, there’s a great story here.” Brandy is talented, creative, and has a wonderful sense of humor. Someone should write a story about him. And, it will be me!

However, I was unsure how to go about barging into his store without a piece of furniture for him to repair. Yes, me, who has her picture next to the word “outgoing” in the dictionary was petrified about going into Brandy’s workshop and saying, “Hey, can I talk to you and take some pictures of you?”

I examined every old piece of furniture I owned at 1:15pm today. Brandy closes at 2pm.
There was not a wobbly Victorian chair to be found. This was probably due to the fact that Brandy had, in the last year, repaired everything I owned , and everything was still quite sturdy, of course. I thought, “Should I break something?”

And then I finally said to myself, “Oh, to hell with it. I’ll just go in there, tell him how wonderful I find his shop, and then ask him if I can talk to him and take some pictures.” Hopefully, he wouldn’t think me too crazy, err, I mean, mad.

When I got there, I noticed that the whole complex (“The Trading Post”) was shut down. BUT, there was a sign that said, “Brandy is open.” I walked up to the door to his shop. Really, it’s like opening the door to the Secret Garden.

Here’s his sign.



I opened the door and entered. He was standing at an antique table, moving a paintbrush back and forth over the top of it. He glanced at me, and I stammered (WARNING: Major nervous babbling ensued), “Hello. Um, er, ah, you have repaired furniture for me before. I brought a table and a shelf in a few months ago, and then you confused me with someone else who brought in a table and a shelf. Well, anyway, you do wonderful work.”

Brandy kept painting the table and looking at me.

“So, anyway, you see, when I came here last, I loved looking at your shop…all the things on the wall, and I think that I’d love to write a story about you. Well, I kind of already did, but I’d love to talk to you and take some pictures of you and your shop if that’s okay.”

He looked at me and said, “Well, don’t take a picture of me while I’m painting this table!”

I laughed, and then he said that it was perfectly okay with him if I took photos and talked to him. At that moment, I became a journalist. Thank you, Brandy for being so kind and open to all possibilities that walk into your little shop from out of nowhere.

Meet Charles Brandon Mayhew.



His father had the same name, so he was called “Brandy”. Here he is again.



Brandy worked for an antique dealer in Marlborough for the longest time, and then he decided it was time to bust out on his own (better pay and such). So, 25 years ago, he saw this space at “The Trading Post”, took it, and the first day he showed up for work, there were 20+ pieces of busted antique furniture waiting for him. And, he’s been there ever since.

Here are the typeface boxes that I love.



I spy the “Snoopy Watch”!



And is this not out of an “I Spy” book, I ask you!
What does key 25 unlock?



In addition, to “things”, the walls are covered with tools.



More tools.



And even more tools.



Even the drill press is adorned with uniqueness, all things that Brandy has made.



There is a great sense of humor within the walls of Brandy’s workshop, too. So, guess what happens when you pull this? See, it’s a finger!



He’s got it hooked up, so a bell rings over the door. He’s got lots of bells. As Brandy says, “I love bells”.



Then, there was the hand holding a plane. Note that there is a thumb and five fingers.



Brandy told me the story about a gifted Japanese craftsman he met with only three fingers; he loved Brandy’s hand. This probably explains why one of my shop teachers in high school was missing a digit.

I love this sign.



Get nickels here. Um, I think that’s a mouse trap under the sign!



A painting…



Here are some things Brandy made himself.



And, here’s his terrorist clock.

He’s got what looks to be little sticks of dynamite inside…um, made out of dowel rods.
You can see it in the video. Of course, I had to ask when he showed me them if they were real, um, half kiddingly. I first thought when I saw them, “Holy shit! I’ve found a terrorist cell in a small workshop in whoknowswhereMassachusetts!”

Every INCH of his workshop is covered with something. Here’s a window.



Yes, that’s an andiron in the window. I only knew that, because I have two black owl andirons in my garage, which are from my parent’s house.

Here’s another window in the dark…



And now the same window in the light…



A head.



Got locks?



As we talked, I heard “cuckoo” several times. I thought it was the voices in my head, but no, Brandy has several clocks in his shop.



Brandy told me that he just put this bird cage up. He had the door open last Saturday, and a bird flew in.



Apparently, the bird flew on top of the cage and began to chatter endlessly at the birds in the cage. It was probably trying to convince them to fly the coop, but unfortunately, the bird didn’t know any better.

The town paper did a story on “The Trading Post” (the antiques store, the clothing consignment store, and the café) a while ago, in which Brandy is housed, but they entirely left out Brandy.

I said, “What? This is by far the most interesting part of the whole building!” Actually, it totally floors me that the greatest and most beautiful thing on that $2 million piece of property is Brandy’s workshop, and they totally ignored it. I am going to contact the local paper to see if they would like a story about Brandy. I know I would like to see a story about Brandy, and that's why I was there today.

I could have gone to the Museum of Fine Arts, the Isabella Stewart Gardener, or the Institute of Contemporary Art today, but I tell you, Brandy’s workshop was far more compelling than anything I’ve seen in any museum as of late.

It made me believe that art exists everywhere in our lives, not just in museums. And that artists are not necessarily people with paintbrushes, potting wheels, or cameras. True artists are people like Charles Brandon Mayhew. I could sit in his workshop for hours and look at every bit and piece he has there. It was funny, because when I said how much I loved every bit and piece in his shop, he said, “And each has its own story.” I totally understood what he meant.

This was the last picture I took when I left Brandy’s.

Hmmm.
Open.
Being open.
Being open to different things.
What intrigued me most about Brandy was that his workshop is tons of random stuff put together, yet somehow it all comes alive into this one thing, this brilliant universe – Brandy's brilliant universe.

I was thinking, as I was driving to Brandy’s today, God, I hope he doesn't think me completely mad (but in a good way!). While this five months of unemployment has been difficult, it has been a lot of fun in many ways. It's also made me think differently and consider avenues that I never would have considered before.

Six months ago, I probably never would have had the courage to walk into someone’s business and say, “Hey, I think you’re totally cool and wicked interesting. Can I write a story about you and take pictures of you?” And, today I did that and was able to do that, because Brandy’s Brilliant Universe, just like Brandy, is always open and to different things.