I started that Monday, the last one in August, by lighting the Aladdin. Not a magic lamp by any means, but still the best oil lamp in the world. Ours had a milk glass shade and nickel base with 1915-16 imprinted on the wick adjuster to commemorate the gold medal won at that year’s world’s fair. Its white light was almost as bright as the latest Edison Mazda bulb, but the incandescent mantle took twenty minutes to fully illuminate. The corners of the kitchen remained cloaked in darkness while the lamp warmed up and I had to feel my way around the cupboard to the basket of splits tucked between the back door and the ice box.