A Death in the Family Room

Over the weekend we suffered a loss. It was unexpected and sudden and left us grasping for answers. It's not easy going through something like this. I'm hoping that by sharing it, I can connect with someone out there going through something similar and ease their pain somewhat.

I'll just say it—our TV died.

It happened so  fast, I'm not sure I can remember all the details. It was Sunday, about noon. We were at the house, Karen and I, watching a football game that we had recorded the day before. All of a sudden—pfft. No picture, just sound.

Denial is always the first stage. We tried all the buttons on the remote. Nothing. I checked the cables in the back, which, of course, was a hopeless tangled mess. So I assumed they were OK. This couldn't be happening. There had to be an explanation, a fix, a button we hadn't pushed yet!

Finally I called it. "There's nothing we can do. It's broken." That's when the Anger stage set in.

"What about my football games?!" Karen demanded. Yes, in our house, I'm the football widow. She'll tape about 7-8 college and pro games every week. I usually watch them with her with a book in my lap.

"Sorry," I said helplessly. "l'll do some research on the web. Maybe there's a fuse or a reset or something."

Karen shook her head. She looked at the TV, then shook her head again. Then she picked up the phone and called our daughter, Michaela, who's up in Gainesville at UF.

"Guess what just died," she said.

"The car?" guessed Michaela.

"Worse. The TV."

Then, Depression set in. We made lunch and, as is our custom, brought it over to the couch and set our plates on our TV trays. We ate in silence for a few moments, gazing absently at a TV that wouldn't look back at us. We looked at each other, then at the seldom used dining room table, and we laughed at ourselves.

"I guess we could've sat there for a change," Karen said.

"Old habits die hard," I said, nodding.

After lunch I started poking around on the web and discovered that there was a class action suit against Samsung for certain model TVs, about a faulty power unit. Sure enough, ours was one of those models, so I called 'em up, stated my situation, and was told someone from their Product Liability team would call me back in a day or two as to what, if anything, they are willing to do in the way of paying for part or all of the repair.

So we did the only thing we could do – find the biggest screen possible to get our fix. We went to the movies and had a good time. We discovered that life goes on, and we moved into the Acceptance stage. Monday night after dinner we had a nice fire in our firepit out back, listened to a '70s playlist on Spotify on our iPad, and talked. Today, Karen went to dinner and a play with a friend, and I went fishing with my brother.

Three evenings without TV, and no telling how long it'll take. Who knows how long we can hold out? We do have that half-finished jigsaw puzzle we started a couple weeks ago, sitting on a card table, waiting for our attention. We have plenty of books and magazines and board games. But we also have football games stacked up in the queue, not to mention episode after episode of Scandal, Ellen, Jimmy Fallon, to name a few. Life is passing us by while we wait for our TV to get fixed! First World problems. They strike hard and cut deep.

The Great Scooby Doo Birthday Party

While hunting for stories through the journal I kept for Michaela, I came across this gem from 2003.

For Michaela's 8^th birthday, she chose a Scooby-doo theme. Mommy got all the Scooby-doo stuff (plates, balloons, invitations, piñata, etc.) and I cooked up a mystery. Can’t have a Scooby-doo party without a ghost! Grandma and Grandpa agreed to have it at their house, because they have a big yard and pool. "But it will be outside," Grandma said. And that was a statement, not a question. It didn't take much to talk Grandpa into playing the part of the ghost/bad guy. He did a good job scrounging up a passable costume, too.

Michaela invited 20 of her closest friends. When everyone arrived at the house, I gathered them together to tell a little story.

"Before we start the party, I just want to let you know that you might see some strange things here, on account of a ghost that has been seen around here. You see, just after the Civil War, there was a Union soldier named Jim who left his regiment to hunt for Seminole Indian treasure, which was rumored to be around these parts. Now, it's against the law for a soldier to leave the army before he's supposed to, so he had to hide during the day and hunt for the treasure at night."

At this point, one little girl raised her hand. “So, he was nocturnal?” Yes, I agreed, that would make him nocturnal. I thought you kids would all be a lot more skeptical, but no one protested to the possibility of the house being haunted.

I went on to explain that Union Jim made his hiding place in this area, perhaps on this very spot of land, so the story goes. "The army looked and looked for Union Jim, but never found him. They say he never found that treasure and his ghost still looks for it." But I assured them I hadn't seen Union Jim since I was a kid, and then only late at night.

The kids soaked it in. But soon we had them running around, playing games, and no one said any more of that old ghost. While they were out front wrapping each other in toilet paper to make mummies, I went to work around the side of the house, making boot prints in the dirt leading to the house. I poured some neon green goo in each, then came tearing around the house to announce a startling discovery.

"Hey, I found some weird bootprints in the back! I think it was Union Jim!"

All the kids came a-runnin’—some a-hoppin' due to their mummification—to inspect the footprints. Yep, those looked like genuine ghost footprints to them, walking right through the wall. Little did I realize how concerned it would make the group – they all wanted to stop the party and look for the ghost in the house! With some difficulty, I calmed them all down and said let’s not let the ghost ruin our party.

Next, during the Scooby Snack hunt (doggy biscuits), the ghost appeared in the second-floor window overlooking the pool. Now the kids were really in a frenzy, but again I convinced them to stay out of the house, partly for their safety and partly to continue with the party fun.

During the piñata game, one of the kids suggested we call the police, but I told her we’d take care of the ghost after the party. No sense ruining the fun with the police searching the house. To appease the group, I went in the house to look for the ghost, and some concerned children warned me to be careful. One kid found a baseball bat somewhere and wanted to come in with me. He was gonna get that ghost.

I politely declined his aid. By this point some kids wouldn’t go in the house to use the bathroom without an adult escort.

Finally it was time to set the trap to try to catch the ghost. For “Indian treasure”, we used the goodie bags that the kids put their piñata candy in. We piled the bags into a laundry basket in the garage, and I balanced an empty metal garbage can against it. "When the ghost comes to get the treasure," I explained in my best Fred voice, "we'll know it."  Then we shepherded the kids out to the pool patio for the presents and cake. Several times a child would look at me and say, “Did you hear that?’ or “I think he’s in there!” Finally, when the last present was opened, I cued the 'ghost' with, “DID EVERYBODY HAVE FUN?”

BANG went the garbage can. Nobody moved, wide-eyed and frozen in place. So I said, “Hey! That was the ghost!” After a moment’s hesitation, 20 kids stormed around the side of the house (as I had instructed) and into the garage. Michaela and another kid brought the rope to tie up the ghost. One poor girl was knocked to the ground in the stampede. Wrong place, wrong time. An army of children swarmed the ghost in the driveway – and it turned out to be Grandpa!

I explained, in keeping with the Scooby-doo mystery wrap-up format, that apparently Grandpa had been using the legend of the ghost to scare us away to get all the candy. I can't tell you how satisfying it was to hear Grandpa utter that famous line, “And I would’ve gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling kids!”

Unfortunately, it didn’t occur to me that some kids would take this too seriously. Grandpa later said he heard some kids call him the “bad grandpa”, and one girl asked him for her candy back. He tried to explain that all the candy was returned already, but she said hers was missing.

We've had other fun birthdays, to be sure. But to me, that was the most memorable. The power of stories—don't underestimate it.