Ron's Blog

This story was adapted from Ron’s first book “Is Your Glass Laugh Full”. It is available as a free download, along with “My Kneecap Seems Too Loose” at https://ronculberson.com/store/)

Growing up, my family was probably considered middle class by the socioeconomic standards in Emory, Virginia. We had more than we needed—decent clothes on our backs, good southern food in the kitchen, and a reliable used car in the driveway. But we didn’t have what might have been considered luxury items like a dishwasher, central air conditioning, or a color TV. I can remember my dad saying, “The color in a TV just means one more thing that could break.”

The other thing we didn’t have was a doorbell. My friend and next-door neighbor Mike had both a doorbell and a color TV. I thought he was rich.

When my wife Wendy and I bought our first house in 1986, just after we were married, I thought I had made it to the big time. The house had three bedrooms, a dishwasher, a newly purchased color TV, and yes, a doorbell. The first night in the house, while we were unloading boxes, I would periodically push the doorbell just to hear those magical chimes. It was music to my ears.

One day, not long after we moved into the house, I noticed that the doorbell no longer worked. I freaked out. How could I possibly enjoy our dishwasher and color TV if the dang doorbell didn’t work?

So, I got my tools from the basement, took the doorbell apart, and tightened all the wiring. I put the cover back on and the chimes worked like a charm. You need to know that I’m not very handy when it comes to home improvements. So I was quite proud that I hadn’t inadvertently caused a blackout in our neighborhood while attempting this minor repair.

Over the next five years, my doorbell worked sporadically. I had no idea why this was happening. I tightened wires, I replaced parts, and I even bought a new chime. And each time I fixed what I thought was the problem, it worked while I was fixing it but would stop working the next day. I considered calling a professional to look at it, but Wendy thought it was crazy to pay a repairman for a silly doorbell. She clearly did not realize how important this silly doorbell was to me. Yet, I must admit that I couldn’t justify paying someone to fix something that could be easily bypassed by a simple knock on the door.

One night, my brother-in-law was visiting and I asked him to help me look into the doorbell issue. I retrieved my toolbox from the basement and the two of us got busy analyzing the situation. We tightened everything, which I guess is an typical male response to mechanical problems—something must need to be tightened. Our initial evaluation was that everything looked right. Then came the big test. We pushed the button and the most satisfying sound in the world blared out—a great big DING, DONG. I wasn’t sure what made it work but it didn’t matter. I once again had a doorbell. We gave each other a high-five, put the tools away, and had a beer to celebrate.

A bit later, I just had to hear that glorious ding dong again. I pushed the doorbell button and…nothing. I pushed it again. And again. And again. Still nothing. It had stopped working just minutes after we fixed it. We got the tools back out, took the chimes apart, and assessed the situation. Immediately, we realized we had missed one loose wire. We tightened it and checked the other connections just for good measure. I pushed the button. “DING, DONG.” Hallelujah! High fives all around and another beer to celebrate.

An hour or so later, my mind wandered back to the door. A voice in my head told me not to do it. But I couldn’t control the urge to hear that chimes again. It was now an obsession. I had to know if it still worked. I stumbled over to the door (I refer you back to the previous celebratory beers) and pushed the button…nothing. There was only one explanation. I was living in a parallel universe and could not differentiate when I went was being transported back and forth. Or, maybe it was something simpler.

We took out the tools one more time. We un-tightened and then re-tightened everything. And of course, the doorbell worked. At this point, I was starting to wonder if I had gotten into some bad beer. Perhaps it was past its sell-by date and had developed some sort of hallucinogenic mold.

We sat on the couch dumbfounded. And then our foggy minds retraced the sequence of events and we began to see a pattern. Doorbell didn’t work—we take out the tools. Doorbell does work—we put tools away. Over and over again. The doorbell never worked when the tools were put away. The tools must be magic!

Well, after several additional tests, we finally figured out the problem. It wasn’t magic tools or a parallel universe. The idiot who built our house had wired the doorbell to the ceiling light in the basement. In other words, the doorbell only worked when the basement light was on. And since that’s where I stored my tools and we typically left the basement light on, the doorbell always worked while the tools were out.

I had to wonder what shop class would teach this type of electrical wiring? Did they instruct them that if they ran out of wire, to just attached the end to the closest switch? Do you think that since the electricity was off when the builders were working, they couldn’t see that they were wiring the doorbell incorrectly? Who knows. All I knew was that when we eventually had our basement renovated, we asked the contractor to just wire the doorbell to electricity only.

Sometimes, in life, we spend a lot of time doing the same thing over and over again and wonder why we keep goofing up. Perhaps we need to step back, see the big picture, and look outside the box. That way, we might see all kinds of new possibilities and then, we can stop being such a ding dong.