Friday, December 7, 2007

In Memorium

Fourscore and seven years ago…No, wait, it hasn’t been that long. But more than 17 years ago, my Dad bought us an Amana microwave. He didn’t buy us a cheap one, and boy, was that money well spent. That microwave survived a boat trip to Spain and is still ticking today. Granted, the light burned out years ago, and due to age and being transformed to European voltage, well, let’s just say she ain’t so speedy anymore.

My Dad was here visiting recently and he heard a story about somebody’s old TV exploding and blowing up their living room. I think he looked at our microwave, and the wheels started turning. I think he imagined that his grandchildren could be obliterated by a microwave explosion. So he gave us money, and told us to go buy a new one.

We did buy a new one, and she is sleek and shiny and small. I can also guarantee you that she will not last 17 years. Nothing does nowadays, at least not any electric appliance that I have acquired recently.

Even though the ole’ Amana still works, we will be sending her to the big recycling center in the suburbs sky. She has served us well. She reheated and defrosted with heart, and we are grateful for her years of service.

Goodbye, old friend.

And people will still rush to get in the microwaving line in front of Troy. Because he likes to complain his food is too hot.

How do you sum up 16 years of feelings for a microwave? All I can rely on seem to be the old cliche's. But that does not diminish what she meant to me, to all of us, to so many people.

She was lily white until her latter days, when she became coffee-stained, as we all do. In the end she had no light in her anymore. She had to be plugged into a machine. Sometimes she just gave up working, but we didn’t want to let her go so we kept reviving her. We had to “jiggle” the cord, so to speak, literally.

I will miss her. She filled our days with many happy memories and other happy things that you tend to remember when you’re remembering things like good times and happy things. I will never forget the time we burned a bag of popcorn in her. But that was okay because Kelly Crull ate the bag anyway.

I’m sad to say we never gave her a name. She deserved one. All we ever called her was Mike. I regret that now.

So, from now on, out of respect, I will at least refer to her by her surname: Amana. I like that name because it’s almost a palindrome. Spell her backwards and you almost get ‘anana’. Which makes her almost a banana. Yes, that will do. That will serve to remind me of all the times I heated up an unpeeled banana in her.


Victoria said...

you guys are completely out of control.

kelly_w said...

well, it's about time. that thing has been on it's last leg since i've known her.

so troy, now you can overheat you leftover pizza in half the time.

paulo said...

i like what troy said about how we all get a little coffee stained in the end. oh, and, troy, your almost palindrome is one letter short of the french word for 'pineapple': ananas. but instead of sending ol' mike to the recycling center, i think it would make a great postmodern coffee table. but, that's me.

Troy and Heather Cady said...

That's a great idea, Paul. Thanks for the suggestion!


Monaca said...

i miss you guys...