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hafoc
Darkkdragon's LJ reminded me of a tale of my misspent youth.
Just out of some morbid curiosity, I would like to know how many of Youze Guys grew up in a world where you always had cable television. My family were Late Adapters, I think. I know cable systems existed in the major metropolitan areas long before we gave up the black-and-white Crosley (with the forty-leven huge vacuum tubes in its back-- we were on a first-name basis with the TV repairman).
But cable didn't exist out in the small towns where we lived. We finally settled down, after all those moves, in a house my folks had built atop the highest hill in the county. Not that it was all that high, but it was high enough, and located between cities enough, that we got fantastic TV reception with our big rotating antenna.
"Fantastic" meant we could get TWO stations EACH of the three major networks, plus two different PBS systems and one "independent." On rare occasions, we could even get CBC out of Windsor, Ontario. Nine stations, of which two were clear, plus one more you could get about once a year.
50, out of Detroit, wasn't very good, but at night it came in well enough. And it was worth watching in the evenings. It did reruns of network shows and kiddie cartoon shows in the day, but at night it ran a lot of movies. They'd go by themes, too. John Wayne. Westerns. Comedies. And, on the particular week in question, war movies. It was War Week.
Back then I didn't know my history well enough that the inevitible inaccuracies bothered me. I enjoyed war movies, even bad ones-- too young to know the difference. So I watched two war movies every night for most of the week. Including _Twelve O'Clock High,_ the classic about 8th Air Force pilots flying B-17s over Europe in daylight. They were dead meat for the Luftwaffe. Took about a 10% loss rate on each mission, and since you had to fly 25 before you could go home.. the numbers weren't in your favor.
Sometime about Thursday night a thunderstorm came up. I was legendary for being able to sleep through things (how things change!), but I was aware there was a lot of thumping and banging going on.
All of a sudden there was a hellACIOUS kaBANGGGG!!!! I jumped up, wide awake in bed, staring at the electric fan I had left blowing on my face when I turned in. It was still spinning away merrily, at full revs. With blue flames pouring out of the motor and through the fan blades, blue flames reaching for my face.
I stared at that for a moment, and then shouted "MY GOD! WE'VE BEEN HIT! FEATHER NUMBER THREE!"
Then I realized where I was, grabbed the fan, and headed out to throw it into the front yard. But the fire was out as soon as I pulled the plug.
An oak tree 150 feet from the house got blown to flinders. And the fan never did work again after that.
Just out of some morbid curiosity, I would like to know how many of Youze Guys grew up in a world where you always had cable television. My family were Late Adapters, I think. I know cable systems existed in the major metropolitan areas long before we gave up the black-and-white Crosley (with the forty-leven huge vacuum tubes in its back-- we were on a first-name basis with the TV repairman).
But cable didn't exist out in the small towns where we lived. We finally settled down, after all those moves, in a house my folks had built atop the highest hill in the county. Not that it was all that high, but it was high enough, and located between cities enough, that we got fantastic TV reception with our big rotating antenna.
"Fantastic" meant we could get TWO stations EACH of the three major networks, plus two different PBS systems and one "independent." On rare occasions, we could even get CBC out of Windsor, Ontario. Nine stations, of which two were clear, plus one more you could get about once a year.
50, out of Detroit, wasn't very good, but at night it came in well enough. And it was worth watching in the evenings. It did reruns of network shows and kiddie cartoon shows in the day, but at night it ran a lot of movies. They'd go by themes, too. John Wayne. Westerns. Comedies. And, on the particular week in question, war movies. It was War Week.
Back then I didn't know my history well enough that the inevitible inaccuracies bothered me. I enjoyed war movies, even bad ones-- too young to know the difference. So I watched two war movies every night for most of the week. Including _Twelve O'Clock High,_ the classic about 8th Air Force pilots flying B-17s over Europe in daylight. They were dead meat for the Luftwaffe. Took about a 10% loss rate on each mission, and since you had to fly 25 before you could go home.. the numbers weren't in your favor.
Sometime about Thursday night a thunderstorm came up. I was legendary for being able to sleep through things (how things change!), but I was aware there was a lot of thumping and banging going on.
All of a sudden there was a hellACIOUS kaBANGGGG!!!! I jumped up, wide awake in bed, staring at the electric fan I had left blowing on my face when I turned in. It was still spinning away merrily, at full revs. With blue flames pouring out of the motor and through the fan blades, blue flames reaching for my face.
I stared at that for a moment, and then shouted "MY GOD! WE'VE BEEN HIT! FEATHER NUMBER THREE!"
Then I realized where I was, grabbed the fan, and headed out to throw it into the front yard. But the fire was out as soon as I pulled the plug.
An oak tree 150 feet from the house got blown to flinders. And the fan never did work again after that.
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no subject
Date: 2006-04-28 01:25 am (UTC)