Saturday 15 November 2014

Permutations on Lamps and The People Who Owned Them. (I)


"I can’t stand a naked light bulb,
amy more than I can a rude remark or a vulgar action”,

Tennessee Williams’ Blanche Dubois in “A Streetcar Named Desire” gives herself away with this line as someone who prefers illusion to reality; who believes that dressing up naked truth prettily makes everyone happier and everything pleasant and easy. “I don’t want realism, I want magic,” she says in a later scene.

I woud hate to take Blanche as my role model but I admit, that as far as the softly glowing light of a prettily shaded table lamp - or standard lamp - is concerned, I am firmly of her opinion. It’s the kind of magic I want for myself. Standing lamps have always fascinated me, perhaps because such luxury was never my lot as a small child. Naked bulbs dangling from the low ceilings of cellars where Mum and I hid, the narrow glory hole of my bedroom or the slightly higher ceiling of the kitchen/sitting room in which we spent most of our time provided sufficient light but no comfort.  The apparent security and privacy of an individual light wasn’t mine to enjoy until I was an adult, in my own home. Once the hardship of the early postwar period was over, my parents had the means to buy lamps but, although ceiling lights were now provided with lampshades, table lamps were outside any experience they themselves had ever had. Light was a matter of necessity, not comfort; light had to be efficient, nothing more.

Fräulein Optenberg was my Infant School teacher;  she lived with another woman and it was in their sitting room where I saw my first ever upright lamp. It was Advent and a school Christmas concert was planned and I was to go on stage and sing some songs, solo. I was bright and enjoyed singing;  for teacher to choose me from all other children was flattering beyond all measure. But I was also shy and inhibited. I had none of the natural confidence some children are handed in the cradle. Rehearsals were to be held at Frl. Optenberg’s and progressed well. The first time I went, properly cleaned up, my long hair plaited and in my Sunday smock, the two ladies invited me into a room the like of which I’d never seen before. It was probably very modest by today’s standards but to me it was like Aladdin’s cave. There was a carpet, a small dining table and chairs, a desk in a corner, a pair of easy chairs and, in the alcove by the window, a piano, and, on the piano, a table lamp. It was afternoon, the lamp was lit. Immediately I knew that I had no right to be in this room, a room like this was not for me, and that all my life I would strive to win one. I was seven years old.

During the course of rehearsals a nasty episode happened. On the way home from school I daily passed  the house where Frl. Optenberg and her friend lived. On this particular day a group of boys, some infants like me, others up to fourteen years old, stood in front of her house, shouting and jeering. I couldn’t make out what it was they were shouting and when I did, I couldn’t understand what the word meant. ‘Mannweib’, the boys shouted, over and over. (Literally ‘Mannish Woman’, ‘Virago’.) I saw Frl. Optenberg appear at the window and I ran off, I didn’t want her to think that I was part of the rowdy group of children, the numbers now swelled by other girls returning home from school. I told my Dad what I had heard and he said to take no notice, that the boys were naughty and rude. The next time I went to rehearsals I stammered that “it wasn’t me who shouted at you” to Frl. Optenberg and she smiled and said “I know, child.”

The day of the concert came nearer and I caught a cold.



to be continued.




31 comments:

  1. Oh! The ladies from your neighborhood again! I'm glad to hear of them again. I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for the continuation.

    And I have to tell you, I grew up longing for floor- and table-lamps, too. So gracious! We had heavy chandeliers made of ugly molded metal. With bare bulbs in each of the six sockets. Or perhaps in three of them. No need for excessive light, after all. I have extra table lamps because I keep checking eBay for deals and I can't resist a lovely lamp if it's a good deal. It's a sickness.
    Your lamp in your picture is so very . . . calming.

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  2. Poor Fräulein Optenberg. Kids can be so mean. Sometimes I wonder what kind of adults they turn into. I do hope that Fräulein Optenberg was comfortable in her own skin and was not hurt by the remarks.

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  3. You have such lovely memories of the room, but it's sad that children were rude to such a nice lady. Now I'm concerned about you coming down with a cold. Last year Willy Dunne Wooters bought me the first nice table lamp I've ever had.

    Love,
    Janie

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  4. You are throwing curves at me in this story. Now I have to worry what might happen!

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  5. I love how you weave a tale. It sounds like you were about to be enlightened. Looking forward to the continuation.

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  6. I hadn't realized that table lamps were a luxury.Must be that silver spoon my husband talks to me about.

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  7. I like lamps with pretty shades and the soft glow that warms the corners of a dark room. We had a standing lamp in the living room when I was small, it stood behind mum's armchair to light her work as she darned or crocheted. I think it was the only lamp we had. I have table lamps now, one at bedside, on one the shelf by the radio, but don't use them much, only the bedside lamp if I'm awake and reading in the very early hours.

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  8. Friko, you do tell a good story. I've just got a lovely soft light for my living room, and I smile when I see it.

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  9. Wanting to dress a nude lightbulb or not liking rude remarks and vulgarity does not necessarily mean to close one's eyes to the naked truth. There is a difference between a rude remark and telling the truth, isn't there?
    Frl. Optenberg and her partner were, sadly, probably used to such treatment. Those kids in front of their house must have heard this stupid stuff from their parents; children on their own rarely treat others with such nasty prejudice unless they've been taught so.
    It has nothing to do with my childhood, but I don't like ceiling lights very much and hardly use the ones in my flat. I much prefer the floor lamp in the corner by the settee and the small lamp on the desk when I am in the living room, and the bedside table lamp when in my bedroom.

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  10. Hi Friko - I can remember the central light as being the only one ... and with very basic shades that broke easily ... I know life was very hard in those early days for you ... the cellar ... I was fortunate to not be in that category ... though we appreciated all we had.

    I love your photo with the lamp and the roses ... so beautiful - it's good to appreciate our lives, as they develop and improve ...

    The kids - they don't change ... because some parents don't seem to understand either ... now I want to know what happened with your cold, and if the kids got worse ... poor women ... cheers Hilary

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  11. We did actually have a shade on the only lamp in the living room. Going to my Aunti's was different. She had bright bulbs hanging from the middle of the ceiling . Our living room lamp was the only one though until much later when my Dad came home from the war and we settled into a small house. You know rude remarks haven't changed much, as I remember neighbourhood boys being cruel that way with some Ladies that lived in our neighbourhood. I was never one of those children. I was very shy as a child and bright, but almost too shy to show it. I had a lovely teacher and she brought the best out in me.I know I am going to love the next installment of your tale as it takes me back to my childhood in similar ways. I truly enjoy your writings. Cheers and have a luvely day.

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  12. No table or floor or bedside lamps in my childhood either, Friko. In our little cottage rooms one central ceiling light was enough, though the bulbs did have shades. As for the prejudice of those shouting children, I too believe they were parrotting what they'd heard at home.

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  13. My husband prefers lights in his room without any covers. I cannot stand it myself, as having the light softened makes all the difference. You have reminded me of one time when I was visiting a colleague who lived outside of my town. She introduced me to her partner, and showed me their house. I realized that they shared a bed, and although I was in my early twenties, I was confused by this. My first introduction to lesbians. I didn't have enough knowledge to have an opinion, but I remember the moment well. I hope I conducted myself properly. I just don't remember. :-)

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  14. How sad that as a child you felt unworthy...worried about how you would be regarded....
    But look at you now!

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  15. Well, I never thought about lamps and economic pleasure. I honestly know we had table lamps when growing up...but I cannot remember a floor lamp. I do have floor lamps in my home today, because I want people to be able to read anywhere and everywhere! Looking forward to Part II!

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  16. Uh oh, I hope the cold doesn't affect your voice ... can't wait to hear the rest.

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  17. Excellent story. Why can't people be civil with others who are different? Why so much intolerance?

    This tale reminds me of so many things. My mom performed in a local community chorus when she was a child. Recently I found articles about some of the performances the group gave. She was mentioned, which must have been a thrill for her.

    Also, like your reference to Blanche Dubois. I like her and hate Stanley the pig. Mostly we get through life by living with illusion. (Why photos taken by others of ourselves at this age are often so rude). No Glamorous Granny here. I do like a good reading light, however.

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  18. What a story Friko - and so nicely told.
    You caught a cold, and?
    Waiting for the Fortsetzung. :-)

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  19. Friko, you have a wonderful way of recounting your child hood stories. Your school teacher comes across as a caring gentle person who loved music. Where did those children learn all their spite and nastiness? Not from her, that's a sure thing.

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  20. You are able, again and again, to turn to an object that we think of as familiar, maybe even ordinary, and evoke from it whole lost worlds. Proust and his madeleine had nothing on you, Friko!

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  21. Not worthy of a room with a lamp - oh Friko - look where you are now. I can imagine you sitting in your chair with a pool of light angled just so.

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  22. What a touching story -- and I too like the thought that you now have plenty of lamps in your home. When we moved to the rural mountain area where we now live, many of our older neighbors who had not had electricity growing up, had no lamps, only the bare ceiling bulb in the center of each room. They were still used to going to bed when it got dark. Reading (the Bible and a farming magazine) happened on the porch on Sundays.

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  23. you are such a great storyteller. I have lamps and nowhere to put them in my new house but can't bear to get rid of them because of their history. and there is a floor lamp at the antique store that I really want but can't justify buying as there is no place for it.

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  24. Hanging like a naked bulb from the ceiling for Part II.

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  25. I love that Dubois' reference. :-) And I loved your comemnt on my post. I fully agree with you. Yes, as a "foreigner" (really? After more than thirty years speaking the language?) I am quite impatient with what I deem "linguistic laziness". The problem is that I have always had problems voicing an opinion like this one. Maybe it's to do with being a "foreigner". :-)

    Greetings from London.

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  26. Oh, this gives me a lump in my throat. How terrible to be taunted by the boys at school as your teacher was -- I would have done the same as you -- tell her it wasn't me. But yes, she would know.

    I have grown up with confidence issues all my life. The sense of never being good enough. Even when recognized for things, I never believed it. Sometimes I still don't.I felt myself be that child, the you, that you shared. And my heart went out to you.

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  27. So did they call her the names because she was living with another woman in a romantic way, or were they just roommates? I'm trying to figure it all out… but aside from that, I am absolutely fascinated by this glimpse into real, living history. Your childhood is SO different from my own, so completely foreign, that it seems like a fantasy story to me. Come to think of it, though, we didn't have any lamps of our own, either. My grandparents did, and their home was a magical respite from reality on so many levels… When I was very young, my great grandma showed me her touch-lamp that stood on a nightstand. I was fascinated by the magic of it, and later in my youth I was given one of my own--that very same one, I believe, after she passed away.

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  28. This--"I knew that I had no right to be in this room, a room like this was not for me, and that all my life I would strive to win one"--maybe be my favorite thing I've ever read at this estimable blog.

    Unrelated side note: the term "glory hole" is also a naughty one, which is where my brain blipped to when I read it in your post. It took me a minute to see those words the way you intended them!

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  29. I was so surprised to see the comments about the women's relationship. I had passed right over it, not thinking one thing or another. I'm sure if I'm to take more note of it all, you'll let us know.

    I grew up with both the naked bulb and table and floor lamps. The bulbs dangling from their cords were in the fruit cellar, the pantry, and the workshop -- all at my grandparents' house. We had bare bulbs in sockets in the basement, too. I had a pair of pink dresser lamps in my room.They were pink, with lace-trimmed scalloped shades. Oh -- and clear bases and stems, which I thought of as crystal, but which probably were lucite. There was a floor lamp behind the big reading chair, and two table lamps at either end of the sofa. And one lamp, with a base made of cameo glass, is still with me. My dad gave it to my mom on their tenth anniversary.

    I love light of all sorts. In fact, I have a very small collection of wonderful British fairy lamps. One is marked Cricket, and three or four are art glass. I think there's nothing more flattering than candlelight or the light of an oil lamp, and my primary Christmas decorations are my little lamps and votives, all lighted.

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  30. The light on a table. It is a luxury, isn't it? I forget that at times. My father once criticized my house for not having a decent table lamp for reading. I went out and bought the best I could afford after his visit. It was his last. He never saw the lamps I had purchased for him. I appreciate them as I read by their light. I don't think we ever had a table light while I was growing up either. I remember a very old floor lamp that was positioned behind the sofa. Otherwise, we had to make do with the light from the ceiling if we wanted to read.

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Comments are good, I like to know what you think of my posts. I know you'll keep it civil.