Some people spend their lives trying to determine who they are. I guess I knew all along, but I have only recently come to a complete realization of what that has been and is for me. It would seem that my purpose in life is to fix things. I will add to that building, creating or enhancing whatever comes my way. Meeting with failure at times has not stopped me from at least trying.
I began to see those more clearly recently when I received the following photo from my first cousin, Teresa. She had found it with others that her mother had kept over the years. I could see that I was doing something that I hoped was constructive, but it took me enlarging the image to see that I was holding a screwdriver.
Looking even closer I believe I can recognize a piece of a long-forgotten Erector Set that I now remember having received. The metal piece with holes at the bottom was the clue that led me to my conclusion.
I don’t remember what I might have been putting together, but a Ferris Wheel comes to mind. Google informed me that someone is actually selling one on eBay, which provided a picture!
Over the years I have often recalled the projects of my childhood. My sister Kathy and brother-in-law Andrew recently reminded me of a long-forgotten project that I undertook in Tallassee, Alabama. Andrew wrote in a letter to his mother, “Michael’s ambitions have always been expansive & infectious. When they were kids, he informed his wide-eyed little sister he was going to dig them a swimming pool. Wanda [my mother] let him proceed, figuring a hole in the backyard was a small price for keeping Michael occupied. In the end, the water from the hose soaked into the dirt, but it was an exciting adventure just the same.”
Another project was far more dangerous and met with about the same level of success. I had learned that magnets could be made with electrical current. Access to electricity was not too difficult to come by. All I had to do was take the bulb out of my mother’s bedside lamp, and voilà perfectly exposed electrical contacts! I still remember the sparks that flew when I dropped a piece of metal into the socket. I can’t remember who replaced the fuse that I inevitably blew.
One project involved securing financing from my “rich” uncle. I learned later in life that he was no richer than we were, but I was always impressed by the rolls of bills that he carried in his pocket. It was only when I began to pay my own tribute to the Internal Revenue Service myself that I understood what might well have been going on. My uncle worked in the Elite Café, a nice restaurant in Montgomery (the same place where my parents had worked when they met in 1945). My suspicion has never been confirmed, but I surmise that the roll of bills came from the tips my uncle had received, and this was his way of having ready cash available without having to deposit said tips into a bank account. Anyway, my goal was to have him finance my project of building a radar antenna out of spare wood that I had found somewhere. Uncle was not only smart enough to outsmart the IRS, but despite not having children of his own, he figured out that my project was anything but a good investment. That was a good thing for both of us, especially for me, given that the project would have meant installing pieces of lumber up in a tree.
I also recall one project that resulted in the only whipping with a belt that I can ever received from my indulgent father. That came as the result of my setting fire to storage building behind our house. I have no recollection of the purpose my playing with fire, but I remember very clearly the fear I experienced when he stood my on the toilet seat and slowly removed his belt. I also remember that the lashes were meant more as a way of inducing recollection of the danger of fire than of inflicting pain. I can’t remember ever playing with fire again.
Another project met with more success than either of those earlier exploits. It came at the drive-in theater that my dad helped to build and later managed in Tallassee. He had been invited to participate in this venture by Fred T. McClendon of Union Springs, Alabama. Mr. McClendon owned a string of theaters in the Southeast and had met my dad who was often his waiter at the Elite. My dad had impressed him enough to receive the invitation to go into business together to build the drive-in that my dad was employed to manage.
One of the first things I learned with my dad was how to repair speaker cones that had been damaged by careless patrons. That experience, combined with the knowledge of electricity that grew significantly after the episode with electromagnetism, came in handy for my next project. The popcorn machine was located in the box office at the entrance of the drive-in so people could order popcorn at the same time they purchased their tickets as they arrived. Popcorn was also sold at the concession stand in the middle of the drive-in, but someone had to make a trip to the box office to have the boxes to sell. Perhaps because I was the one who was sometimes sent on the errand to get the boxes? In any case, I became convinced that a simple door buzzer, button and transformer could be used to set up a signaling system to order up a new supply of popcorn.
We found unused wires that ran underground from the button in my dad’s office to the screen at the front of the drive-in. From there we ran extra wires from the screen to box office where we installed the transformer and buzzer. The system actually worked! At least it did until the button burned out. The contacts were most likely only rated for the 12 volts or so required by the buzzer rather the 120 volts from the wall plug that I had wired to be switched on and off by pressing the button.
The bottom line is that I learned a lot from my parents’ indulgence as well as their willingness to let me try to accomplish new things.