If I recall correctly, my paternal grandparents had a single lightbulb hanging over their kitchen table.
There the extended family would gather. When the bugs would drive us off the porch we would sit around that table under the solitary light for a bowl of ice cream (sometimes homemade!) with rhubarb pie.
I have wondeful memories of us congregating where light was available, as opposed to scattering to far flung corners of the house each with our own separate personal devices.
I reflected (pun intended) on that as we looked at light fixtures earlier today. We were sent home with four catalogs, averaging 600 pages in each book.
We need to pick out task lighting, pendant lighting, kitchen lighting, bathroom lighting. Do we prefer clear, amber, or frosted glass; brushed nickel, chrome, burnished bronze? Globes pointed up or down?
Modern, traditional, vintage, arts and crafts, transitional?
Yikes. So many choices.
And don't get me started on refrigerators. Right now, I would gladly use an icebox. We certainly had plenty of ice available this past winter.
Oh well. Modern life is more complicated. Back to the catalogs.
We have a lot of decisions to make.
My grandma? Grandma knew how to shed light on the subject.