I wrote earlier (Tuesday FB12) about my father and his brothers regarding their sense of adventure and fixing-up broken things They Were Typical Boys? (LOL No!).
This time around, I have recollections of three little boys, each with their own sensitive and sharing ways of taking care of my entertainment systems over the years.
Before DVDs and BluRay discs, I had a VHS tape recorder (this was back in the mid-1990s).
My oldest son, Junior wanted to play one of his cartoon movies, but didn’t know how. He must have overheard me talking about PayTV, so he did just that — and told no one about it.
When I went to play a tape, the machine loaded up, started to play then made disgusting, grinding noises similar to a sink-installed garbage disposal unit chewing a teaspoon! I stopped it and tried to dislodge my tape — nope, it was a goner.
I asked a friend who dabbled in audio-visual equipment, he told me to bring it in. Three days later, he called me and said it was fixed.
When I went to pick it up, I asked him how much I owed him for his trouble.
“Nothing,” he said with a big grin, “You already paid me!
[Look of total confusion]
He laughed and reached under his counter. He brought out a small paper cup and dumped its contents on the counter.
“Two dollars and seventy-three cents,” he smiled, “That’s enough for a large coffee, ya think?”
“You found money in it?”
He nodded, “Much easier fix than last time. Hey, did you ever find out which of your boys shared his PBJ* with it?” [*Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich]
“No,” I lied.
One summer evening, Chef got up on my computer desk and made a tech support decision: he took a glass of water and poured it into the top-side vents of the monitor! I know this because I witnessed the water pouring from the kitchen down the hall!
“No! No! No!” I yelled scrambling down the hallway, stumbling over a Fisher-Price dump truck and the middle son playing with it.
Chef looked at me with professional concern, pointed to the monitor — which was ON — and said “Drink!”
I watched the monitor screen picture rapidly shrink from twelve inches square to a bright, white dot (half the size of your smallest fingernail) in the middle of the screen, before I put Chef on the floor and took the glass to the kitchen sink.
“How do I fix it? How do I fix it? How do I fix it”” was my only thought, as I held my aching head, not noticing that I still had a kitchen towel in my hand.
Rushing back to the desk, I put two kitchen towels on the carpet near my computer chair. I then disconnected the monitor and slowly turned it upside-down, to rest on the towels.
It stayed like that for three days — caught the attention of almost very visitor.
When I finally braved the possibility of electrocution, I hooked it back up — and it worked!
But that was not the last attempt made on my computer.
Captain, my middle son, did not like the idea of anyone being hungry.
I was making dinner, when he came into the kitchen asking for a slice of bologna.
“It’s not for me, Daddy, it’s for Sam!”
When I asked him, who is Sam; he told me that Sam was our computer!
Both Junior and Captain were attending school; Junior was in Grade Two and Captain started Kindergarten. They both recognized their alphabet (most of it) and struggled a bit sounding things out.
I went to the computer and sure enough, the name was there on the upper left of the monitor.
(You just need to ignore the last four letters for it to work.).
Turning to my son, I expected to find him chopping on the bologna slice, but he was playing with one of his toys.
“Did you eat your bologna?”
“No,” he giggled, “It was for Sam.”
I tried to use psychology, “But, Sam doesn’t like bologna.”
“Yes, he does!” Captain jumped up and pushed the CD tray button, revealing the meat circle. “He’s saving it for later.”