It is January and the New Year is upon us. The hopes, the dreams, the
resolutions…the fresh start. But
for a lot of us January consists of taking down all those Christmas lights. Breaking them down is a lot easier than
setting them up…as is the case with most things. One of the benefits is that I don’t have to worry about
electrocuting myself. But once
again this year, as I was setting up the array of lights, I had to insure their
working condition. Another season
of outdoor deteriorating can cause a connection or two to not quite
conduct. And this year would test
the limits.
When I was younger I had a fascination with
electricity. I not sure if every
growing boy does, I just know that this one did. Lightning intrigued me. I would watch storms from beginning to end on my
Grandfather’s enclosed porch. There
was a certain smell and a way the wind blew that you knew one was coming. With less light pollution back then, a
single flash would light up the entire landscape. The stick shapes would appear as cracks in the purplish
glass like sky. I admired Ben
Franklin. I too wanted to fly a
kite and capture the dragon. Of
course Mom would have none of that.
Seems she had her fill of me electrocuting myself…and sometimes her…the
years previous.
Young children have these wonderful little bathtubs. They stand about three feet off the
ground and come with convenient waterspouts. Most people just call them sinks. When I was around 4, like many others, my Mom would bathe me
in one of them. Her choice was the
first floor bathroom right off the hallway from the kitchen. Above that sink was a medicine cabinet
and above that a light fixture, two bulbs and a single outlet. Now, much like the house in “A
Christmas Story”, my Grandfather had a nest of plugs going into the few sockets
that these older homes had. To allow more access for the abundance of new electrical appliances, the light
bulb socket adapter was created. And
my Grandfather seemed to stockpile them.
Basically, it was a light bulb socket you could plug right into the
outlet. It also came with 2 extra
outlets as a bonus. One of those
wonderful doohickies was resting unplugged atop the cabinet. My Mom had me stand so she could wash
my feet, placing me eye level with the device. I thought I would help my Grandfather out by plugging it
in. Feet in water, hand on
electricity….you can see where this is going. Before a blink of an eye, my Mom and I found ourselves
halfway down the hall. Blown
backwards by the jolt, she never knew what hit us. At least I did.
To this day I am surprised we survived. However, I now have this innate ability to know when a
lightning storm is coming.
You would think that would have done it, my relationship
with electricity. But like a
jilted, or should I say jolted, lover…I kept coming back. My Mom had this beautiful handcrafted
dollhouse from her childhood. I
wish we still had it today. It was
three stories of wonderfully handcrafted wood. It was incredibly realistic. So realistic, the rooms where wired for lights. But being from the late 1940’s, the
wiring had deteriorated and it no longer worked. Our neighbor had a daughter my age and we spent a lot of
time together. She was tomboyish,
but she could not help her adoration for the dollhouse. My Mom, never having a daughter, would
treat her like one. She allowed
her to play with her treasured piece and enjoyed watching her. It must have brought back so many
memories. Of course MY memory now
is of me trying to impress the young lass. If she liked the dollhouse now, she would LOVE it if the
lights would work. At 6 years old
I must have thought I was in the electrician’s union. Down to the basement I went to my Grandfather’s
workshop. All the tools and wiring
I needed at my fingertips. Only
thing missing was the actual knowledge of what to do with it. 220/221, whatever it takes. After a few days, the wiring was
complete. I just needed the right
moment to show it off. Unfortunately
for me that time would come soon enough.
My Mom and our neighbor disappeared into the kitchen. When they returned, they would see a
perfectly lit up dollhouse. Or so
I thought. I am not sure I
remember plugging it in. I do
remember the loud pop. The socket
was black, the dollhouse was black…and I was black. There was smoke everywhere. It was reminiscent of a seen from the Little Rascals. I recognized that familiar tingle from
years earlier. Electricity 2,
Michael 0.
As I have aged, surprisingly making it this far, I have been
more cognizant of the current current danger. But it hasn’t stopped me from working with the wattage. Each year I expand our Christmas lights
a bit further. One of the things I
like to do is decorate the back yard.
With the abundance of pines, it only seemed natural. I would have a timer to control these
lights as they were a distance from the house. This year I wanted to use a remote switch and found one that
had the range needed. It stated on
the package it worked even during the rain. I wonder if they tested it. The remote worked perfectly until the first downpour. The next day I went to turn on the
lights. For a moment they worked,
then off they went. Even from across
the yard I could smell that familiar smell. As Ralphie would say, “The snap of a few
sparks, a quick whiff of ozone”. I
proceeded to the switch and saw the outlet on it had melted. Luckily I had been far away. Where were these remotes when I was a
kid! I checked the GFI outlet that
the switch was plugged in to. The
piece that pops out when the outlet is tripped shot out so far, the spring
catapulted it to points unknown.
It was no longer useable.
But the show must go on. I
rigged the extension cords to run all the way back to the house. Draping them from tree to tree, fence
to fence…like an electrified clothesline.
Once completed, I flipped the switch and the backyard glowed. I was proud of my work. Then the whole house went dark. Seems I overloaded the fuse and fried
that outlet too in the process.
The broken outlets needed to be replaced
before our yard could once again gleam in all its holiday glory.
However this time I would make sure I called
a real electrician.
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