A plugged-in and powered-up Christmas
By Bill Fields
There were some Christmases growing up that Carolina Power and Light and Eveready Battery must have loved. The same would go for the manufacturers of those flimsy extension cords whose “U.L. approved” tag didn’t inspire a lot of confidence.
It is tempting to think that the popularity of high tech gifts is a relatively recent development, but anyone of a certain age knows that isn’t true. Of course, high tech of 40 or 50 years ago must be considered for its day, the way a 260-pound offensive tackle would then have seemed only slightly smaller than Godzilla.
Still, Christmas was juiced long before Major League Baseball. Along with “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” there were other words unique to the season.
“TO PROTECT FROM ELECTRIC SHOCK, DO NOT OPEN
COVER OR BACK. NO USER-SERVICEABLE PARTS.”
That caution came on one of the best presents with a cord I ever got, a reel-to-reel tape recorder from Santa/Western Auto that allowed me to pretend I was one of those basketball play-by-play announcers I heard on the radio so many winter evenings from distant locales. The machine should have come with a different warning: Until you go through puberty and start pronouncing “Fayetteville” with three syllables, you have absolutely no chance of sounding like them.
I could amuse myself with simple things — a ball of crumpled foil and a hanger shaped into a hoop taped to a doorframe, anyone? — but there was a period when I was attracted to something that powered up like bream to a cricket.
Take indoor putting. I could groove my stroke just fine by rolling a ball toward a chair leg or coffee mug, but the “Electric Putt Return” from Sears took living room practice to a higher plane. In form it resembled a dustpan, but in function the device was positively Jetsonian in how a golf ball was propelled after an attempt, only rarely failing to make it back to your feet. The distinctive click occurring when a ball began its return is on the soundtrack of my childhood.
The putting trainer had a single purpose, but the glory of another of my 120-volt holiday delights from Sears was its multi-purpose utility. Shaped like an oversized loaf of bread about two feet long, there was a clock — with alarm — on the left, a tiny television — VHF and UHF — in the center and a radio — AM and FM — on the right.
Despite my most creative antenna directing, the TV picture was usually snowy, sometimes rolling and never fully satisfying. Still, the clock and radio worked well and the whole “solid state” combo sat on my desk, leaving enough room to do homework. Owing to its faux mahogany top and sides, it was even handsome in its early-’70s way. The appearance certainly trumped the value “entertainment system” my parents gifted themselves one year. It wasn’t lacking in functions with an 8-track, radio and turntable, but the lift-off plastic lid covering the record player made it a leisure suit of electronics.
Year over power corded-gizmo year, I would say I made out better than the adults.
There was the matter of the irons, blemished but numerous, in the years when Dad worked at Proctor-Silex, which manufactured them. A steam iron, no matter how good or how much of a bargain, should be purchased when necessary, like new sheets, and never adorned with a red bow.
One Christmas there was an electric knife under our tree. I’m sure it came with a warning, too, but wasn’t as useful or as much fun as my tape recorder. The man who is credited with coming up with the idea of an electric knife, Jerome L. Murray, also developed boarding ramps to get people onto airlines and a pump essential in open-heart surgery.
Two serrated blades going through a ham or a turkey a couple of times a year — the noise of the contraption sometimes punctuated by the jarring contact with a platter — surely doesn’t measure up to Murray’s other accomplishments.
But those were the times and, as sure as kitchens were done in avocado, those were our things. PS
Southern Pines native Bill Fields, who writes about golf and other things, moved north in 1986 but hasn’t lost his accent.
