Crisis Averted

We had a really close call at our house this week.

The Electrolux

On Sunday, Jon was cleaning his room when the Electrolux lost suction and suddenly shut down, displaying a warning symbol that I had never seen before. It also appeared to be overheated. I panicked. Could this be the end for the beloved vacuum cleaner my parents had purchased back in the early 80’s?

The Electrolux had served them faithfully all those years. I inherited it when Mom died. The vacuum, along with some of Mom and Dad’s other stuff, was delivered to me in New Jersey a few years ago by Reuben Smith, who happened to have some extra room on his moving truck when he was relocating a client to the East Coast. I remember Reuben’s puzzled expression when I asked him to be extra careful with the vacuum, noting that it was just as fragile as my mom’s glass curio cabinet and the china set that was given to my great-grandparents on their silver wedding anniversary over a hundred years ago. I wasn't kidding.

Paul and Jon give me those kinds of looks too, when I tell them to be careful with it. They think it's a little odd that I worry about it so much, but I can’t help it. It belonged to my parents and it has always been there for me. Break a glass, get the Electrolux. Knock over a plant, get the Electrolux. Cat hair on the chair? No worries, bring on the Electrolux.

And now it just sat there on Jon's bedroom floor. Lifeless. I pulled the plug and sat down next to it, slowly tracing the outline of the orange warning light with my finger. That telltale electrical smell permeated the room. Not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.

Mom and Dad bought the Electrolux when I was in high school and I didn’t use it that much back then (okay, I never used it). I just wasn’t into cleaning like my friend, Pam Mitts, who bought one of those fancy Kirby vacuums when she was only sixteen years old. That was Pam for you, always practical and organized, keeping a little notebook in her car to track her gas mileage, and already preparing for her future with Larry Lanter. Of course she would need a good vacuum to clean up after him and the little tots they would have. I don’t know how much she spent on that thing, but it involved monthly payments, and it was a constant source of frustration to me. For example:

Me: “Hey Pam, let’s go to the movies.”
Pam: “Oh no, I can’t. I have to save up for my vacuum cleaner payment.”

Next month.

Me: “Hey, Pam, wanna go to the State Fair?”
Pam: “Oh, no it’s almost the 15th of the month, and I have to make the vacuum payment.”

And this went on and on, and I just didn’t get it.

I wouldn’t get it for many more years, not until I was in my twenties and married. Family friends, Carl and Phyllis Peger, had purchased a fixer-upper on McGown Street, just two doors up the street from their own house. Peger, who was in the construction business, remodeled the house from top to bottom, and when he was finished, it was in pristine condition. The Pegers agreed to sell it to us contract-for-deed, but before we could take it over, there was one stipulation: I had to meet with Phyllis to discuss how to properly clean and care for the house. Now, anyone who knew Phyllis will remember how she kept her house. We’re talking eat-off-the-floor-clean. Everything had its place and was in its place. When you visited, regardless of the time of day, announced or unannounced, you would find their house to be in immaculate condition. Phyllis herself had once told me that if you really want to know how clean someone is, just check behind their toilet. Believe me, you would never have found a speck of anything behind the Peger’s toilet.

I clearly remember our meeting at the new house. Phyllis marched in armed with a bucket of cleaning supplies. She asked to see my vacuum and I proudly produced my Hoover upright. Surely, a respectable brand like Hoover would impress her. She shook her head in disapproval and told me that this house would require a better quality vacuum with several different attachments. Then, over the course of the afternoon, she proceeded to give me room by room cleaning demonstrations on everything from using lemon oil on the oak kitchen cabinets to removing and cleaning the furnace filter. She also covered window washing, proper tub and tile cleaning, and gave me tips for dusting ceiling fans and blinds.

Those first few months living in Phyllis’ shadow were not easy. She would call and let me know if there were smudges on the front windows or weeds growing in the yard. When I would get frustrated with her, my Dad (who had been friends with her since childhood), always reminded me that “P. Peger would give you the shirt off her back if you needed it.” I can still hear him saying that. Eventually, I figured out that there was a lot more to owning a home than my twenty-something self had realized, and Phyllis was right about many things. Every couple of weeks or so between Hoover cleanings, I would borrow the Electrolux from Mom and give the house a good cleaning from top to bottom, just like Phyllis had taught me. And if you were to look in my closet today, you would find a bottle of lemon oil among the cleaning supplies. I always smile when I use it.

Dad was right too. Phyllis did have a good heart and she helped me many times over the years. Phyllis and Peger were good folks who worked hard and did a lot for the community. They were nice neighbors, and their yard, just like their house, was immaculate. They have both been gone a few years now, but when I visit Raymond and drive by their house on a summer evening, I still expect to see them sitting on the patio, smiling and waving.

Back on the floor I thought about what to do. I decided I would call the Electrolux repair number, even though deep down, I knew it was finished. I pulled on the cord and let it gently retract one last time, and I gingerly removed the attachments. When I opened the back compartment to remove the bag, about a dozen or so rocks from Jon’s rock collection came tumbling out. Apparently they had fallen off his shelf and in true teenage boy style he had decided to vacuum them up rather than pick them up. I removed the rocks, plugged in the vacuum, and tapped the on button. It came back to life and it seems to be working as good as ever.

Imagine that. It’s funny how a seemingly hopeless situation can turnaround in an instant, and how something like a vacuum can give you some good material for your TBT blog.

By the way, Pam was right too. She married Larry and they had two kids. They are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary this April, and they still have the Kirby vacuum cleaner. I guess it was a wise investment after all.