Growing up, I remember hearing stories about how my Great Great Grandfather emigrated to the United States from Switzerland and opened an ironworks. Later in life, I learned that the English translation of Schmid is Smith, so I can safely assume that one part of my family were blacksmiths.  As a result, we have a number of beautiful wrought iron pieces in our house. This lamp has had a home in my living room since I can remember. Iron is heavy, and the leaves and branches on this lamp are sharp, so it wasn't something I touched much.  As a matter of fact, the lamp is in a room with very large windows, so my family rarely even turned it on. But I loved to look at this lamp. My sister and I get into arguments about who will get the lamp in our parent’s will. When my grandfather died, my father purchased his home from my grandfather's widow so that she could move to a retirement community. My family now owns two houses, five cars, and a Cessna Skyhawk biplane. I trace this wealth back to iron. I wonder how many people of color were employed in my Great Grandfather's ironworks.  I wonder how many of them own a home.

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