Back in the 60s when materialism steamed full speed ahead on
its way toward dominating (some think ruining) American life, I acquired my
first real big boy toy. We bought a house with an electric garage door opener. The
devices were just starting to become standard gear for homeowners. Now, even
those with so much junk in their garages they can’t fit a car in have automated
door openers.
What fun I had. A favorite amusement was seeing how far away
from home I could be when the control button opened my door. As I recall, the
record was a block-and-a-half. Opening a few neighbors’ doors along the way
didn’t faze me. That happened often before opener technology improved.
Recently, our 23-year-old garage door opener died. An emergency
trip to Home Depot was mandatory.
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| A weight-lifting exercise I can do without |
“We’ll be around all week,” I told the service manager.
“When can we get installation?”
“They’ll call you,” he said.
The voice on the phone sounded a bit subdued, “I’m sorry,
but we’re really busy. We can schedule you three weeks from now.”
“What! Don’t we still have an unemployment problem here in Michigan ? Are you sure
three weeks is the best you can do?”
“Yes’” she said. “Maybe somebody is out of work around here,
but our installers definitely are not.”
The first few days went badly. Ours is a double door, eight
feet tall, with glass panels across the top. It is heavy.
Because modern garage doors have no outside handles, my
first attempts at coping with opener-less life were to get out of the car, walk
around to the front door, unlock it, walk through the house to the garage, lift
the door using the handle on the inside, get back in the car, drive into the
garage, get out, and pull the door shut.
Beautiful wife Sandy, as usual, found a better way. I was a
little surprised when after observing me in action a couple of times and listening to my complaints she said,
“Let me do it,” after we pulled into the driveway.
She walked straight to the left corner of the door, bent
down, got her fingers into a little gap under the door edge, and with a mighty
heave lifted it up. That became our standard entry procedure. I could barely budge
the damn thing off ground zero that way. But if a little lady could, what choice
did I have?
After a week using the Simplified Sandy System, I began to
ponder the “want vs. need” question. We now and then mutter about the need for
more exercise. Getting in and out of the car a few extra times surely could
help maintain or even develop agility. Raising that heavy door had to have some
positive influence on the old upper and lower body muscles.
Perhaps, I thought, we could return the new toy to the Depot
and live without an opener, as everyone did for years before clever advertising
and our desire to “keep up with the Joneses” convinced us “we just had to have
one.” Installing an outdoor handle and lock could be handled easily as a do-it-yourself project.
Without an unneeded opener, we would be healthier and a bit
wealthier by enjoying some minor savings in electricity costs.
Then I thought about getting out of the car and wrestling
with a heavy door during a typical Michigan
driving rainstorm. Or, in the midst of a lake-effect blizzard. Or, when I was
in a hurry to get inside to begin enjoying the cocktail hour.
I called the installation people and begged, “Can’t you
possibly get to us sooner?”
