The B You Never Knew # 1 - Light Bulb School

About 4 years ago, B was graduating from high school. Since B "loves" to be the center of attention so much, we planned a "big" party for her (read: lunch at Olive Garden with a few friends and family.)  As part of the party, I wrote down four stories and put them together as a little booklet to hand out to the guests entitled "The B You Never Knew."  I decided to stretch out B's birthday celebration this week just a bit longer and share these four stories in this forum since a number of readers would have never heard these before.  And even the ones who have heard them might enjoy a reading.  Please keep in mind that these were written back when I was still a single mother and trips to Home Depot were not anywhere near as frequent in my life as they are today now that G is my husband and he does "stuff" that Home Depot is known for supplying.  Hope you enjoy our first entry...

Light Bulb School

We have one dressing table in our house.  That’s probably the old-fashioned name for it, but it’s an old-fashioned piece of furniture, so that name seems to fit.  You’ve seen the kind I’m talking about at least in movies.  Half desk/half dresser with drawers for smaller things and a mirror across the back.  We only have one, and it’s in B’s room.  I use it exponentially more often than B, but then she is younger and prettier, so I’ll use that as my excuse.  It has nothing to do with vanity.  Wait a minute…maybe that’s another name for this piece of furniture….hmmm…???

Anyway, I was doing my hair and makeup, and B was on her bed reading.  I was getting ready to go cook Surf and Turf for last month’s Sisterhood gathering.  Four of us get together about once a month to embark on culinary adventures.  My mind was all about the Three Cheese Semolina Bread and the Mascarpone filling for the cookie cups and the steak butter for the filets as I’m finishing up.  I stand up, and B asks me when we are going to Home Depot.

Ok, I know we’ve had a conversation recently about needing to go to Home Depot, but I can’t recall why.  I hesitate a moment or two in hopes that Good Mom Brain will kick in, but alas, it did not, leaving me no choice but to ask.

“Why do we need to go to Home Depot?” I ask.

“To get light bulbs for my ceiling fan,” B responds.

Ah yes, this ceiling fan takes a slightly smaller bulb.  And they aren’t carried at Schnucks.  We have to go someplace like Home Depot to find them.  I recall this conversation now.

I look up.  Her ceiling fan is on.  Even the lights are on.  And behold, all four light bulbs are working!

So I turn to her and ask, “So you need spares?”

“I’m running low,” she says.

Low?  Did she just say that she was running low?  All four lights are working, and she has spares?  I walk over to where the bulbs would be kept, and see that she has two bulbs in an unopened package.  And she’s thinking about going to Home Depot to get more?

I walk away somewhat baffled, at least confident that I’m not being a bad mom by not going to Home Depot today.

I finish packing up the things I’m taking to the Sisterhood.  I head to the pantry for the vanilla sugar, and that’s when it hits me.

B did not graduate from the Deb Chenoweth School of Light Bulb Management. 

Are you familiar with the Deb Chenoweth School of Light Bulb Management?  Let me explain.  I’m getting ready to read a book.  I sit down near a lamp.  I turn the switch, but the bulb doesn’t work.  I look around, and there is another bulb close by in another lamp or a ceiling fan.  I unscrew that bulb and put it into the lamp near the chair that I want to read in.  Turn on the lamp and read my book.

All is well.  I will pick up light bulbs sometime. 

Clearly, B did not graduate from this school of light bulb philosophy.  No, and this is the thought that really came to mind as I’m standing in the pantry. 

B graduated from the Paul Morrison School of Light Bulb Management.

For those of you who don’t know about this school, Paul Morrison was my father.  He is gone now, but he believed in being prepared for any emergency.  Consider it an occupational hazard.  He was a fire and casualty insurance underwriter for most of his career.  He got paid to think about the tragedy that could happen, assess the risk and then determine the appropriate premium to charge to mitigate that risk for the carrier. 

And to my dad, light bulbs were serious business.  My parents never had less than a full shelf of light bulbs in the pantry at all times. 

My dad would often work on things around my house.  He had a trouble light that he brought with him every time.  As you may know, trouble lights use light bulbs.  More than once, a bulb would go out, and he would ask for a new bulb. 

Uh, in the Deb Chenoweth School of Light Bulb Management, there may or may not be NEW light bulbs around.  But that’s no problem.  All anyone needs to do is pull a bulb from another socket, right?  With a sigh of disappointment and disgust, my father would accept the bulb, but clearly he had failed in training his daughter.  My father eventually learned to bring his own spare bulbs when he needed to work on something at my house.

And now I’m confident that he is smiling down on B, for he has at least one progeny that graduated from his school of thought.  It may have had to skip a generation, but B is making him proud.