Our sweet next-door neighbor, Mr. Tom, passed away about a month ago. Mr. Tom was elderly and had been sick for some time. His house sits a ways behind and to the side of ours, but it’s close enough that I could see him when he sat outside in the evenings. Often when I came in from work, he would be sitting in his favorite outside spot and I would pull into my garage, then step back outside to wave to him. He seemed always to be waiting on my acknowledgement for I could see the big smile on his face when he returned the wave. I had learned after several attempts not to yell, “How are you, Mr. Tom?”, because I could tell he couldn’t hear me. He always just smiled and waved.
Yesterday, there was an estate sale at Mr. Tom’s house and I walked over to see if I could find some memento – a bowl or mug or some such thing that I could use in my studio that would remind me of him. Imagine my joy when I walked into his home office and saw this wonderful Dazor lamp sitting on his desk.
I could tell by the cord and the plug that it was an old lamp, but the cord and the lamp were in near perfect condition. I reached to move it over a bit so I could free the cord and plug it in to make sure it worked. The lamp didn’t budge. That base weighed a ton. I freed the cord, plugged it in and IT WORKED! I moved the arm and it seemed to float from one position to the next. I was getting excited! What a perfect lamp for my workbench in my studio!
Then I began to worry about the price. I feared such an awesome lamp would be marked at least $100 at an estate sale. Gingerly, I supported the neck and turned over the base to view the price……$25!!! That’s all??? $25??? My heart was racing as I lugged the giraffe-like lamp through the house and paid for it. I huffed and puffed up the hill to my house and placed the lamp on my workbench. It was made for just that spot.
Mr. Tom’s lamp has found a new home – a home where it will be used and loved and cherished for many years to come. I miss seeing Mr. Tom when I come home in the evenings and I miss the feeling of just knowing he was there when weather didn’t permit his outside ritual. I went to an estate sale looking for a small remembrance and came away with a treasure, and isn’t that what we long to surround ourselves with – treasures with memories?