You LIght Up My Life!

CAPTION: ".....astronomers are baffled by a strange new light...."

My dad was a fireman who enlarged the family income by being a plumber and an electrician on his days off. I was very proud of the man, and he certainly was a role model for me in many ways.

On the other hand I was far from being a "chip off the old block."

He left the planet a long time ago. But I miss him and often wish he'd show up to mentor me through some life crises.

A case in point? Well I sure could have used him on the night the "LIGHTS CAME ON."

    LET THERE BE LIGHT, OR NOT

 

                  By Paul Reinertson Circa 1984

 

         It’s Friday night. It’s been a long week. We’ve had dinner out, and we’ve slipped into some cushy theatre seats to watch a local production of “Wait Until Dark.” Here’s a quick summary for those of you scratching your heads. It’s the story of a blind woman in New York, surprised by cunning criminals posing as police. They ultimately terrorize her because they think she has unwittingly gotten her hands on some drugs they smuggle into the country.

 

Well she turns the terror tables on them after dark when she can TURN THE LIGHTS OUT.

 

 When done well it’s one of those theatrical scenarios that will likely, at the climax, double your heart rate.

 

And, on Friday night of a long week it reminds you that things can be much worse in your life.

 

I know this is a good production for two reasons. One, I’m having trouble catching my breath.  And two, my wife has one hand clutching my arm and the other hand up covering her eyes. Little whimpering sounds are escaping her lips.

 

I wrap my arm around her gently, and squeeze. “It’s okay honey, it’s just a play.”

 

“Is it over?,” eyes aimed at her knees.

 

“Yes!”

 

With that reassurance, she pushes my arms away and resumes her normally sophisticated posture. She feigns an intense facial expression that pretends she sat through the entire production unaffected. Right!

 

I think we’ve seen four versions of this play? And I don’t think she has ever seen the lights go out? We never discuss it, and she never volunteers a confession. I think, but will not ask, that we are continuing to see this play until she has guts to watch the whole thing.

 

Lest you be misled, this is not a meek woman. She is a tough, liberated, professional woman. Underlings shiver when they hear her approach. I think that’s why she is going after this vestige of female fear with a passion. I’m not going to ask her.

 

Well how about some light after the play conversation?

 

“Isn’t it interesting how dependent we are on light?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Well there is some room, I believe,for criminal sympathy. If you reduce the plot to just a conflict between people trying to survive, she has all the advantages when the lights go out. The drug smugglers, like most of us, have become so dependent on light and sight, they’ve let all their other senses atrophy. They don’t have a chance. She’s got them where she wants them.”

 

My wife has grown accustom to my occasional philosophical rambling. She sees little reason to humor me. And, she is not beyond yanking me back to Earth.

 

“That’s crap!. These guys are slime. They deserve what they get.”

 

This ends our conversation. And it gives me time to let you know the story I’m about to tell you has nothing to do with going to theatre.  It has nothing to do with the heightened senses blind people develop. It does, HOWEVER, deal with light, and the rest of our night following our trip to the theatre.

 

Come back tomorrow and we’ll get started.