Vintage mid-century modern fiberglass pendant lamp I got as a gift from the original owners. Dr. P. was 94, blind, and permanently jolly, despite his beloved Imogene wasting away in her bed from Alzheimer’s. “Hi, Megan! Shall we go for a walk!” Dr. P couldn’t see me but he thought I was just wonderful and he waited for my weekly visits. I walked him down Chapparal Lane amidst multimillion dollar homes for elderly white people who played golf along the ocean. Dr. P, who was white, would tell of his life in 1930s Korea before his family was forced to leave. He told of Imogen’s ancestral connection to George Washington. Then he told of the “Little pickaninnies” in 1940s North Carolina who were causing mischief for the white folks in his proud southern neighborhood. Oh, right, Dr. P can’t see my nappy-ass hair and that I’m not quite white. If Dr. P hadn’t been blind, would he have liked me so much? Or Would my pickaniny ancestry have reduced me to “the help” in his eyes? Who cares. He’s blind, old, and happy, and I’m learning something. Dr. P doesn’t need the light but I’ll use it.