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Today is, as he put it, the anniversary of my father's birth ("Everyone only gets one birthday. The rest are anniversaries.") and I had this, or something close written up last year... and then some fool made the Boston Marathon a bit too newsworthy and I decided it would be best not to post this just then, for reasons that will become clear. Thus, delayed, here is a tale of a mid-summer night's smoke:
There are times when a joke or gag is set up and things go wrong. Sometimes they go wrong in ways that make it better than if it had gone right.
This story took place sometime in the 1970s at a place, or perhaps I should say facility, that no longer exists. The details of it are not all that important other than it was a blue collar operation and shifts ran throughout the day and night when things were operating. From the various stories I've heard of the place, it was a somewhat relaxed atmosphere. Still, it was always a bit surprising to me that things didn't go badly when all this happened.
Pa, who as far as I know has never smoked at all (beyond second-hand, which was pretty much unavoidable in times gone by) had somehow wound up with a cigar. Not one to simply pass such a thing along unmodified, and having some 'cigarette loads' the idea of an exploding cigar was too good to pass up. A cigar is bigger than a cigarette, so Pa figured it would need a bigger charge. One load might not be enough. Two might not be enough. Three ought to do it. These were poked in through a tiny hole in the plastic/cellophane wrapper and worked into the cigar.
One night the cigar was passed along to the area foreman. No big deal, some guy had given a non-smoker a cigar and he was just passing it along. Now, this might be a good story right there if the foreman had smoked the thing. That did not happen. For that night there just happened to be a special visitor, who I'm not sure exactly but I'll refer to as the Big Boss. Trying to make a good impression, the foreman offers the Big Boss a cigar. The only one he has on him.
There is, I imagine, the usual talking of this and that and the looking over the operation. Then the Big Boss takes a stroll outside and lights up the cigar. A little time passes.
*BANG!*
The Big Boss comes back in, the cigar peeled back as if it were a banana, "...just like in the cartoons." Fortunately the Big Boss had a good humor about it, and was laughing, "I never thought that would happen to me!"
I never did hear what reaction the foreman had when he realized that it was meant for him... but it couldn't have been too bad since Pa was still working there for some time. Since all seemed to have a good humor about it, all three (and the various witnesses) all got a story out of it. Pa got the story of how a gag went better than expected, despite the potential for it being bad. The Big Boss got the story about the time someone gave him an exploding cigar. And the foreman got the the story the cigar that didn't blow up in his face... and didn't cause the Big Boss the blow up either.
I doubt such a thing could happen today. Nowadays, there'd likely be charges filed for there being an "explosive device" and the invoking of a Zero-Intelligence Policy.
Not like we didn't know that, but this was brought home to me in a very effective manner, though one that might not make sense to others without some explanation.
Back in 1972 if you wanted a typical (as seen nowadays) red dot laser you needed to get a Helium-Neon laser tube which was not cheap then. A very quick web search shows that a low end 'HeNe' tube today is about $60. And as with most tube gear, a high voltage power supply was needed to make the thing work. While one can find such things nowadays for about $20, back then it was not the case. My father had managed to buy a "replacement" laser tube and used a fancy (so it seemed then) toroidal transformer and power transistors (solid state has made a lot of progress since then, if you hadn't noticed... often power devices still used tubes then.) and with those built a power supply for the tube that could run off of 12 Volts DC. This made it "portable" or at least transportable. It could be used in a car.
The night it was finished enough to be used that way, my mother was in the hospital either expecting or having given birth to my sister. My father was visiting her while I was at home or more likely at my grandparent's house. Luckily it was a foggy night and he told her he'd have it on for a bit before he left the parking lot. With the fog, the beam was visible and my mother saw it out the hospital room window.
As there were no laser pointers, this thing was unique, or at least was so in our area. This led to various shenanigans with it. Aiming it at the sign that indicates a stop light ahead made the red circle in the image of the stoplight look lit up like a real stoplight. Tracing the beam quickly along the prismatic bricks of a bar must've looked at least somewhat light emergency (police, fire) lights inside and got folks to come out to look around.
At the A&W root beer stand (a drive-in eatery back then) the laser was once positioned in my father's lap, held low so it could not be seen from other vehicles. Then the spot was projected on the sun visor or headliner of the adjacent vehicle. When the odd red dot was noticed the driver tried to point at it to his passenger (we assume husband & wife) but as he pointed, Pa would shift the dot a bit and the pointing finger followed, but the shift reversed and for a bit it was sort of a game of tag to try to point at the curious dot. My mother had to hold herself back some to let the beam pass and also had to suppress laughter at this little game.
Now, most of these things I did not witness myself, or do not recall, but I heard of them years after the fact. One thing I do recall is a big (well to me, I was 5 years old, everything was kinda big to me) pickup, I think the license plate indicate Montana but I am unsure, parked opposite us at the root beer stand. A map went up in the truck. The laser was quickly brought to bear and the mysterious red dot shown through the map and was scanned around just a bit. *FWIP!* That map came down faster than one might imagine and the people in the truck looked around for... whatever that was.
I don't know how long this reign of peculiar red dot event went on, but eventually the laser tube leaked (give the pressures involved, air got in to it) and the fun was over. The tube was not replaced. It was expensive and the fun had been had.
For years I pondered rigging up something similar, and for a while I even had at least a laser tube and power supply (by then, the mid-late 1980s, such things could be found used & inexpensive at hamfests) though I never rigged it all up to be portable or transportable.
Laser diodes (and diode lasers) had been around for some time, but they were infra-red and thus while useful in some application, not useful for visual pointing or amusement. And then technical progress brought about visible light laser diodes, which were expensive - at first. But like other solid state devices, progress meant rapid cost deflation and soon pocket laser pointers made into boardrooms, then classrooms, and eventually got to where you could buy one off of a peg at Shopko or K-Mart.
And as that happened, more people experienced the red dot and grew to know what it was. The joke didn't work anymore as the mystery was gone. Now it was "Alright, who's playing with a %^$@ laser pointer?" rather than "What the hell was that?"
But it's 2014 and the ultimate progression has occurred. A few days ago I bought a combination LED flashlight (there's that progress again - early LEDs were rather dim) and laser pointer - batteries included - at a dollar store. While it's 2014 and not 2012, one inflation calculating site had data up to 2012. Assuming the dollar hadn't declined much in value in the last couple years (not entirely true) today's dollar is roughly equal to about 18 cents in 1972. And for that "18 cents" of 1972[1] I have a smaller, less power hungry, more capable, and truly portable (it could hang on a keyring) device.
So, it's really not 1972 anymore.
[1] Alright, with sales tax it might be up to a whole quarter.
Wednesday the fifth I was looking forward to a couple nights off away from any work and pretty much relaxing. Maybe I'd fiddle one computer or another and I'd probably bake a cake. Then the phone rang.
"I think your father is having a heart attack." is the memorable line. Backing a up bit... the night before, all seemed normal. My folks had gone out and they'd split a rib eye and had a pleasant time. The morning started normally as well, with Pa having a nice breakfast. He went into the living room and sat down to watch some TV and, as I have come understand, a bit later while my mother was on the phone with someone he sat up a bit and said "I don't feel so good." He went out and sat on the porch, then moved to the steps (there are but two) and started to lean over. The phone call was ended quickly and, "Should I call 911?" "Yes." She called, and got him onto the ground so if anything had to be done, he was already in position for whatever it might be.
Not too much later he stopped breathing. She did CPR. (Has or had the certification and did work some time at the local hospital.) He started breathing again. About then a police officer showed up and was about to start chest compressions but was stopped, "No, he's breathing." "Yes, he is." And where was the ambulance? A radio call revealed it was about a mile away. Ambulance arrived, not sure if anything was done on the ground, but he was picked up and put into the ambulance and something more was done... doors closed.
That is when I got the phone call. Nothing either of us could do and I was told not to start out for Merrill until she knew more one way or another. When that called ended, she called my sister and I assume a very similar conversation took place.
Meanwhile, in Fairmont... Jay called a fellow he know who knows more than a little of cardiology and said that while he could not be sure, from what was described to him (now third-hand, at least) it sounded like a coronary and tried to be reassuring. That call ended and Jay said, "Go pack." I didn't get it right off, evidently I need to hear the rest, "Go pack (your stuff for the trip to Merrill)." I did, or got most things in place. I decided I really needed a shower if we were going anywhere and so did. And just as I was turning off the water, the phone rang...
It was my cousin Betty who didn't realize (despite efforts on his part to explain) that Jay was not me. So, on speaker, she told Jay and I heard the bad news. Betty was careful not to let my mother do much - no phoning, certainly no driving - just then. More packing followed and various arrangements made to deal with my sudden absence from the area. I didn't say anything right then on LJ or Twitter as I really didn't feel like advertising my absence and I was rather preoccupied.
Somehow I managed to get some sleep on the trip to Merrill. Arriving, we found some funeral arrangements were made but more were needed and that happened the next day. The funeral was Saturday the 8th (the anniversary of his plane crash a few years ago - and a few other nasty things less related.) Jay & I returned to Fairmont on Sunday the 9th due my resuming work schedule.
In between there was much meeting with friends and family and sorting through stuff. Lots and lots of stuff. And we only scratched the surface, really. I foresee more than a few trips to deal with everything, and the problem of how to merge some things into the house here in Fairmont which seemed big when we moved in.
My sister stayed longer and is likely returning to Minneapolis today. So much needed (and needs) to be done. And I'm glad my mother wasn't alone on the 15th - wedding anniversary. I expect this coming week, which includes my mother's birthday, will not be easy either.
As those who have been reading a few recent locked entries know, the past few weeks have not been pleasant. One of the dark spots is brightening a bit, at least. This past Thursday my father went home from the hospital.
