MYSTERY

Electricity is a mystery. At least it is to me. During the Halloween season of 2003, at least I think it was 2003, we had an electrical mystery. The costume shop lights started to behave badly. One could turn on a switch in anticipation that it would turn on the closest light. At first this proved to be a reasonable expectation. As the days of October went on, the mystery began to manifest itself.

Light switches began to affect lights other than the one attached to the switch. What went off or on became unpredictable with each flip of the switch. The washing machine started causing an interesting Northern Lights-like pulsation throughout the downstairs. Some switches seemed to have become dimmers. As the week wore on the entire system became dimmer, and dimmer, and dimmer . . .

No light.

Beautiful sunset at 7 p.m. No light. Shop open two more hours. Time for flashlights, camping lanterns and candles, using extreme caution, of course! Not a good situation. Great Halloween atmosphere for a Halloween Haunted House, but not for a costume rental business. . . . "Ma'am, is this cape red, green, or black?" "Let me see- feel it. Oh, that's blue velvet!"

A friend suggested an electrician, who shall remain unnamed, who graciously came right over to investigate. I thought the issue was related to a short at the washing machine since the pulsing seemed to be the most noticeable problem from the start. He spent the better part of an hour digging around. He couldn't find anything wrong. He left and I was in tears.

Fortunately I have friends in far places with many talents. I knew it was a stretch, but I called my electrician friend in Illinois.

I've known John since I was barely ten years old. The summer our family moved into an old, abandoned farmhouse, John lived in the driveway in his bread-truck-turned-camper helping my dad plumb and wire the house. They had to install a furnace, create a bathroom in the old nursery, and wire every single room. There were no outlets in any walls and each room had a spin-switch that illuminated a light bulb dangling from a cord in the center of the ceiling.

I can say with confidence that my first girlhood crush was on John. He was a hippie, just like my mom and dad, but a younger and cuter hippy. His mustache was far more impressive than my dad's, and he always had a buck knife tucked into it's worn leather pouch on his belt. I used to dress like him, carpenter-style denim jeans and a white t-shirt, and follow him around, willing to run for whatever tool or beverage he needed. He handled it well and never treated me like a stupid little kid.

The greatest thrill was getting to sit on the step in his bread truck with the door open as we went hurtling down the road. I loved the wind in my hair and the thrill of the road racing by, just inches from my feet. This was a prohibited activity if my mother was a witness. But my father indulged the thrill-seeker in me and trusted John to keep me safe. We started calling him "John The Generator," after a Van Dyke Parks song. The refrain goes like this:

Who's that comin'?
John the Generator.
Who's that comin'?
John, John, John.
Who's that comin'?
John the Generator,
John the Generator with his work clothes on.

My sister, mother and I would break into a chorus as a way of greeting whenever he turned up. He had an uncanny way of arriving just in time for meals. My mother always welcomed him, even though he taught us to belch (and belch lustily, I might add) on command. Most of our friends called him Electric John, or "EJ."

So I called John, in tears, and left a forlorn message about the electrical problem in my treasured shop, so discouraged I couldn't even sing the song. John is familiar with our property, being a frequent visitor as well as advisor on electrical issues when we bought the farm, so to speak. He called back about twenty minutes later and asked me some diagnostic questions, just like a doctor trying to get a complete grip on the symptoms.

"Okay, Bronwyn," he reassured me, "I need you to go to the breaker box to re-set the power. Turn off the main switch at the top and flip it back on."

"We've already tried that," I snuffled and complained.

"Trust me," he coaxed. "Flip the switch and tell me what happens."

Click. Click. Nothing.

"I told you, John. Nothing happened."

"Bronwyn, did you flip the switch ALL the way off?"

"What do you mean?"

"Turn it off" click "Now push the switch all the way over." CLICK "Oh!" I exclaimed.

"Now turn it back on," he encouraged. CLICK Lights, radio, answering machine, BINGO! A cheer went up from the shop.

"Thank you, John. thank you thank you thank you! I knew you could make it better."

He laughed and congratulated me on turning on a switch! It seemed rather absurd. I guess it just needed to be reset. John promised that he would figure out a time to come up and go over the system and help Dale bury the overhead lines. We sent him a thank you card from all of the shop volunteers (they all know him from various visits here and from our annual retreat to Illinois each December).

So this week, when my trusty husband couldn't make the dryer heat up or the water heater heat, I had to make the call and sing The Song. We knew it was an electrical issue, having hauled the drier across the yard and drive way to plug it into the house line where it worked just fine.

"Hello, this is John. I can't answer your call right now, but if you leave a brief message . . ."

"Who's that comin? John the Generator . . ."

John called back and he and Dale and I played diagnostics. There are a very few people in the world who can play this you-be-my-eyes-and-I'll be-your-brain sort of game. I talked my sister through the threading and bobbin-winding of a garage sale sewing machine once. It took about 45 minutes and two beers. Fortunately Dale and John and I can play this game, too.

With the assistance of another handy husband, Barb's hubby Mike, Dale was able to follow John's hunch and locate the failing circuit box. The replacement will be installed today and we should be good to go. Unfortunately I may have to admit that the hot water heater really did die. But I won't have to sacrifice the dryer, too. I've become very reluctant about break-downs ever since my aunt and uncle bought a new refrigerator only to discover that the old one had simply become unplugged!

We'll be back up to a full service costume shop later today.

By the way, Danielle was our first paying customer of the year and won a free pumpkin. Look for her picture on the website! http://home.earthlink.net/~dmucostumes Thanks, Danielle. Your costume will look great and we hope you enjoy carving the pumpkin!