It was almost Christmas, so I thought I would replace the bulb in the lamp in the living room that had been out several months. I searched around until I found a bulb. Actually, I borrowed one from a lamp upstairs.

After removing the burned out bulb from the lamp, I replaced it with the bulb that worked. I turned the switch and–no light. I tried again. Still no light.

Now, I knew the bulb was good. Maybe the lamp itself was burned out. I grabbed the cord and traced it to the outlet. Wait–it wasn’t plugged in!

I had been in the dark all this time because I was unplugged!

That reminds me of many years ago when my family was singing together. Our practice sessions could be quite eventful. None of us were nearly as serious about it as Daddy was.

Although Mama was the one who taught us to sing harmony, she was all about fun and games. To Daddy’s chagrin, our sessions often turned into giggle sessions. His increasing frustration only served to fuel our silly giggles.

One thing that could always be counted on was technical difficulty. There always seemed to be a microphone that wasn’t working or a speaker that needed attention. Daddy was our technician. He could fix anything. Mama once said that he could make a wheelbarrow run. When these electrical issues popped up Daddy would get a screwdriver, a pair of pliers, and a soldering iron and make it work again.

When my brother was about 9 years old he started learning to play the bass guitar. This added one more item to Daddy’s case load because a 9 year old was not overly cautious when handling the delicate instrument. At this stage in my brother’s career, stage performance was much more important than quality outcome. This in itself was sufficient to increase the probability for technical problems.

I remember once during a practice session the bass guitar refused to make a sound. Daddy figured there was a break in the cord that connected the guitar to the amplifier. The amplifier was in two pieces, the head and the speaker. Daddy decided that the shortage must be near the end where it plugged into the head. To correct this he cut the cord about an inch below the plug connector. He then removed the damaged piece of cord that remained. Using the soldering iron he reattached the cord to the connector. Usually this would fix the problem.

With the cord repaired Daddy plugged it into the head again. The guitar still refused to work. We had been standing around waiting for the repair and this failed effort was threatening to cause a niggle of a giggle from us girls.

Daddy had to be the most patient person that ever lived. Without saying a word he proceeded to cut the cord on the other end where it plugged into the guitar. After cutting, trimming and resoldering this end, he put it back together. My brother stood expectantly holding with the bass, anxiously poised to try again. Daddy plugged the repaired cord into the guitar.

“OK. Try it now,” Daddy said. My brother made his favorite run down the neck of the guitar. It was like a silent movie. No sound accompanied his energetic exhibition. The guitar still was not working. You could see the dismay in Daddy’s face. The repair failure was not nearly so comical this time around.

While Daddy was reassessing the situation Mama walked over behind the amplifier. She looked down, picked up a cord and plugged it into the back of the speaker. It made a noise. Daddy sat up and looked at her. All this time the head and not been plugged into the speaker. The cord was not broken at all. After an all around outbreak of hysterical laughter we finally got down to business.

Daddy was a good sport about the whole thing. He never commented or complained about the incident. It was one of those things that added flavor to our task and fun to the journey. One of those things that is remembered.

I guess the moral of the story is Before you give up, check to make sure you are plugged in.