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Michael Brian O’Keefe's avatar

Thanks for making me chuckle. One good thing about getting north of 70 is you get to look back fondly at hard times you didn’t at the time recognize as hard.

The house my father bought for us in 1964, when I was nine, was built with HVAC ducts, but central air conditioning was a thousand dollar extra back then and more than my father was willing to fork out. The house did have a huge ceiling fan in the main level hallway that, when activated, sucked all the hot air out of the house with such noise and vigor that I thought it was similar to what I imagined a jet engine sounded like.

Alas, I slept in the attic level upper bedroom, where even that huge jet-powered fan couldn’t help me. So, I slept atop my sheets until early morning, when the coolness of night finally crept through my wide-open cross-ventilating windows. Thank God the building code required screens in windows or I’m pretty sure my father would have skipped that expense too and just given me a fly swatter.

On the plus side, when the volunteer fire department, a mile away, activated its eerie-sounding wind-up siren to call in its crew to respond to a night fire, my dog would howl along so loudly that my father would curse his name even louder; while the fire chief, whose house faced my open windows and who was offensive lineman huge and flatfooted, would announce his presence to my world by loudly clapping down his front sidewalk as he struggled with his boots, and soon-enough he be cursing his son who was my best friend for leaving his bike for the millionth time hidden in plain sight in the middle of that same sidewalk, toppling for at least the tenth time the jolly old chief who actually had been a scholarship soccer player in college and not the other kind of football player.

The dog, my father and I would soon turn over in our beds and fall to sleep, safe in the knowledge that all was right in the world.

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