Pavlov's Telephone and the Amazing Azalea

I was probably seven years old when this happened in the summer months of the early-to-mid 80’s. Daddy had decided to load a brand-new air conditioner into the window of the second story of our home. The details of the first part of this story are a little blurry in my mind; the details of the second part are as sharp as a tack.

For whatever reason (we likely had no ladder tall enough) daddy decided to install the window unit in the upper half of the large window by hanging out of the bottom half with my older brother holding him in place from the inside. In hindsight, I’m sure he realized the questionable wisdom in this tactic, but, life is not experienced in hindsight.

My older brother was a teenager at the time. He was doing a great job holding dad in place. But, something happened. Something happened that, if you grew up before the 90's and the proliferation of mobile phones and texting and the like, you might more clearly understand. You see, teenagers back then could be just as lethargic and non-mobile as they are today. But there was one event of that time, one moment that was certain (100% certain) to arouse a wild release of energized full-on running-through-the-house response from any teenager. A response always accompanied with the same shout: “I’LL GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” That sacred and powerful event: the telephone ring.

I can’t really blame my brother for what was about to happen. The teenage response in the 1980s to the telephone ringing was Pavlovian. I don’t know that he really had a choice. He was trapped within the response. Can you see where this is going?

Well, my brother, in that moment, absent of thought, present of reflex, shouted the words we knew would come. And even at seven years old, sitting across the room, my mind knew what was about to happen before my body could react. I remember shouting, “No!!!!!” and as I think back on this, it was much like the slow-motion shout of Ralphie in Christmas Story when he didn’t say, “fudge.”

My brother shouted, “I’ll Get It,” ran a few steps across the room, realized what he had done, and looked back just in time to see my dad falling out the window, ac in hands.

We all ran outside. I remember the huge amount of fear I had as I ran. And there was daddy on the side of the house certainly in pain but walking it off. The azalea bushes had broken the fall. To this day, I love azalea bushes.

Everything worked out fine. Daddy, someone who was extraordinarily gifted in gentleness, did not get upset. Or, if he did, he kept it well-concealed. He said, “I’m fine; I’m fine.” However, I do seem to recall a diminished frequency in our trips for bowling thereafter; but, other than that, no noticeable harm done. Also, we were one of the first families in the neighborhood to get central air that summer!

So, if you ever have a teenager drop you out of a second-story window, and you can muster the strength to put anger aside and say, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” you just might achieve hero-level immortalization from all the kids around. Also, don’t hang out of windows! 😊

I continue to be,

Jamie