Nighttime Beacon

  Antiques

Looking around the house, I can see how it has become the repository of what could now be high-value collectibles. 

I never tire looking at them, as each tells a story. Purchased from stores that are now mostly defunct, their allure has not faded. They let me experience memories that sneak out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks. 

So, in this series, I invite you to travel through time and enjoy the history and patina of home vintage finds with me.

*****

In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary. - Aaron Rose 

A lamp does not speak. It introduces itself through its light.

I concur.

A brass torchiere floor lamp was one of our purchases when we moved to a high-rise apartment in the Windy City way back in the mid-70's.

Full of old-world character, it provided a handsome lighting solution with its slender, clean-lined silhouette. The lamp features an ornamental, vintage-style lantern paired with a single-light glass shade (unfortunately broken and seemingly irreplaceable).

I've always thought it is classic.

Brass Torchiere Floor Lamp, Wickes Furniture (now defunct), Chicago, Illinois: Circa 1974

Set between the leather sofa bed and the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, it emitted just enough ambient light that highlighted a view of the clawing waves of Michigan Lake on Lakeshore Drive.

It stayed with us when we moved southwest. Against a window on the bare living room of our ranch-style home in Casa Grande, it silhouetted a sleepy little street outside and a landscape, flat and sparse.

A year after that, in a home in Arizona's capital city, the stairwell could be darkened and shadows would play on the oak walls of the tri-level living room, but there it was - lighting the nights that turned into a night, a day, and another impossibly long night.

Lamp with glass shade still intact,

Christmas in Chicago: 1976

It almost always has been relegated at the corner of the main living  room. 

That's where it is currently, by the piano, against a picture window in our mid-west home.  Old. Worn and faded. 

But it continues to be a beacon.

As it highlights fat robins hidden in the shadows or a lone hummingbird scampering for a last sip of nectar on a teetering feeder.

As it quietly throws random memories like confetti.

As it continues to teach that life could be converted into a festive promenade, even as the heavy overcast sky steals the sun's light.