Recently, a beautiful pair of cabinets came into my life — battered, beaten, but with noble bones. A careless string of miserable individuals had heaped abuse upon them under the sickly fluorescent light of some back office. Yet they stood, faithfully storing files, holding up lamps and coffee makers, enduring the indignities of scratched paint and scotch-tape repairs. After thirty-five years of service, they were dropped on the curb, left in the Chicago cold, winter wind rattling a few last papers around their feet. A gentle soul scooped them into his truck and brought them to our warehouse for resuscitation.