The Lamp Lady's Mother's Day

I've had fun with previous Mother's Day posts, but this year I would like to blog about some special mothers who have illuminated my life. Literally. Moreover,  even though three of them are no longer alive, they continue to do so,  thanks to some unique, beautiful lamps I was lucky to inherit.

The Torchiere: Even though this is technically not a piano lamp, we always called it that because its companion was Grandma's Shroeder & Sons baby grand. Its thin fluted pole in no way resembles Grandma physically, but the scooped bowl reminds me of her large, warm heart and generosity.

Grandma was such a skilled cook she had me begging for second helpings of fried green tomatoes when I was five. She raised five children, sending two off to war, and was grandmother to 19. To her, family was most important, and I gained an appreciation of that and the power of patience and a positive attitude, plus I think she passed along her love of mischief to me.

Grandma's torchiere

The Victorian: I call this the boudoir lamp and use it in the bedroom. It comes from my paternal grandmother, my Nana, who passed along her many Victorian treasures to her grandchildren.

Nana was also a fine cook, but I devoured the fine points of grammar she fed me along with the home-made cherry pie. She was a teacher; gentle, persuasive, articulate. She always made each of us feel like her favorite whenever we spent time with her.
 
Growing up in a large, loud household, I always associated Nana's house (and its Victorian decor) with peace and quiet. What my grandparents exemplified. So no matter how chaotic things get here, there's always a cubic square foot on a dresser that gives off light, warmth, and serenity.

Nana's boudoir Victorian

The Hurricane: As bright, colorful, and curvaceous as my dear late mother-in-law, who also had an eye for Victorian. It held a place of honor in her front bay window and glowed with comfort at night. I think she would approve of its new home atop the piano. And how she could bake! I always try to channel her when I'm in the kitchen with a cheesecake or Slovak recipe.

My Mother-in-law's hurricane lamp

The Vine: A kid, her mom and a lamp. The newcomer, but a favorite which appealed to me while I was growing up. Someone gave it to my Mom and Dad when they were married, meaning it's 63 years old. I can't imagine anything made of ceramic surviving that long in my house.

Mom is a caring person and devoted her life to caring for others. Managing our large household was hard, relentless work, but she succeeded while keeping her hopes and standards high. When I think of the thousands of things she has taught me over a lifetime I am almost speechless with admiration (but not quite).

Like the lamp, my mom is resilient, with a bottomless depth of strength as she continues to brighten up our lives today.

I recently spotted this lamp packed away at my Mom's, and she offered it to me, happy to free up some closet space.

Did I mention what a good cook she is?

Thanks again, Mom!

Mom's vine lamp

  




So you can see how fortunate I am. Every day I walk through a house filled with reminders of two generations of strong, loving, talented, skilled women who outlasted wars, the Depression, recessions, disease, childbirth, epidemics and anything else life threw at them -- but also love and legacy. Each of them found a way through hardship to fulfillment. They were survivors. They were the women in my family.

Tonight I will walk leisurely through my house and turn on each of these lights in their honor. Then we will all shine together again.



Happy Mother's Day!
















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