March 2022 – Mike's Life

I have made it no secret that I am not a fan of doing any home improvement that involves electricity. I think this goes back to the time some 20 years ago when I once tried to change out a light fixture. I thought I had turned off the breaker but I had clearly not, as the shock I received clearly reminded me.

When we had several fans and lights installed recently, I hired someone to do it. My wife and I agreed that this was a good investment because (a) there were quite a few, and it would have taken me about a week straight to get it done and (b) electricity was involved.

I know plenty of you out there are shaking your head wondering what the big deal is. It’s simple! You just need to know what wire to connect where, and be mindful of the electrical set-up, which means being a masterful wizard of the invisible energy force that is electricity, the thing that can nearly knock you off a ladder when you don’t turn off the correct breaker.

For some reason unknown to me, I decided I could handle the task of changing out an outdoor light by myself. I wanted a motion sensor light in my backyard so that when I take the trash out in the evening, the light magically comes on. (To those of you saying it’s not magic, I disagree. It’s magic.)

But I figured this was pretty straightforward, and I had the better part of an afternoon to spend on what would take most competent electricians about 10 minutes.

I went to the home improvement store and began to shop my options. And there were A LOT of options. And some of them were very expensive options. I didn’t want fancy. And I certainly didn’t want expensive. I wanted a plain, basic outdoor light that came on when I walked in the backyard, and with easy access to the bulb when it came time to replace.

That was a needle in a haystack. First off, tons of the lights have what appear to be a very complicated manner of replacing a bulb. I wanted to reach up into an open area, unscrew a bulb, and screw in a new one. And I wanted a motion sensor. Eventually, I found my options, and it was a whopping three different lights, and only one in the color I wanted. This actually worked for me, as it was also the cheapest option, and that’s usually my number one priority on things like this.

I got home and turned off the breaker. This should be a breeze, I said. It was not a breeze.

For starters, the old light was really old. I am convinced the light was installed in 1923, and the house was just built around it. After fighting with rusted out screws, I eventually got the old unit off the wall.

I looked at what awaited me, and I saw something pretty simple: A black wire, a white wire, and a grounding wire. I still have no idea what a grounding wire actually does, but I know it’s gold and important and maybe stops my house from burning down?

I attached the respective wires to the new light. Learning from previous experiences, I did not fully install the whole fixture. Rather, I turned the breaker back on and went to test the light. There is a little tab you can switch that says “Test” that lets you see if it’s working even when it’s still light out. So I flicked the tab and turned on the light. I waved my hand in front of the sensor. Nothing.

I called my wife (yes, she was just upstairs, but it seemed like a long walk) and told her it wasn’t working and we’d need to call an electriciation. She suggested I ask a neighbor to help, as several of my neighbors are far more handy than I am. I conceded that was a good point.

I turned off the breaker and went to pull the light down, and decided I would try and reattach the wires one last time and give it a try. While I was fumbling with the fixture, I felt a little click. And I realized I had not, in fact, turned the light to “Test.” Sigh.

I cut the breaker back on and waved my hand. Magic!

I called my wife back and told her that the light was working, and there were only a few sparks. She said, “There were sparks?” The fact that she did not get that I was joking tells you the confidence she has in my electrical work.

So the light is now installed, and it lights up gloriously when I go to take the trash out. I feel very accomplished, and can’t wait for the next electrical project I have. So I can hire someone competent to do it.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, you can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.

We know the deal when we sign up: We will most likely have to say goodbye to them.

Such is the reality of dogs.

And we just said goodbye to one of the greatest dogs I have ever known, Maddux the Stoic.

Maddux had a rough start to his life. I feel no need to get into specifics of that, because his first two years of life were the exception. And I feel pretty confident to say his final decade was exceptional, and that’s what I prefer to focus on.

Maddux was a boxer. My wife had boxers growing up, and always told me she one day wanted another one. When the opportunity to rescue one presented itself, we took the plunge. And we never regretted one second.

When I say Maddux was special, I know what you are thinking. “Sure, Mike. All of our dogs are special.” And I agree. They are.

But Maddux had something I’ve never seen in a dog – he was loved by everyone he encountered. I can’t even remember the number of times people told us they would gladly take him off our hands for us. (No thanks, was the answer, by the way.)

His appeal came from a combination of things. He had a stately, strong appearance. But he was as friendly as could be. And not just friendly. He seemed to genuinely care about people. Unlike any other dog I have ever met, he seemed to know when someone needed a pick-me-up. If you were having a bad day, Maddux seemed to know. He would find you in your chair or on the couch and mosey up to you, and just set his head in your lap, occasionally putting a paw gently on you. He was just telling you he was there.

He seemed to sense if people weren’t dog people. On several occasions, he bridged gaps between people who either didn’t really have a thing for dogs or straight up had a fear of dogs. And he won them over with his gentle, soothing nature and his shared kindness. He was just … different.

Like many dogs, he was protective of his pack. But he was welcoming of strangers, assuming he sensed our approval. If workers were at the house, he would often sit near them. Our AC repairman was once working on our unit, and Maddux was sitting attentively next to him. I asked him if he needed me to move Maddux, and he replied, “No, he’s my assistant. We like to talk shop.”

But if my wife and I were not there? He was on guard. I remember one time my son called me at work. He was home alone, and the pest control guy was doing his routine backyard work. Maddux was standing at the door barking, making it clear no one was coming inside. We started noticing that if we were there and the pest control guy came over, Maddux loved to go and greet him and have a chat. But if we were gone, all focus was on protecting the pack.

In the end, however, as so often happens, his body failed him. His legs began to fail. His appetite began to wane. He could no longer walk up the stairs, and we had to carry him to and from bedtime. He and I could no longer do our nightly walks. It was clear he was hurting, and you could see it in his eyes.

On his final day, our daughter came over, and we spent the night as a family with Maddux, sharing fun stories about his antics and just remembering the better times. The next day, when it was time for his final vet appointment, our son carried him into the front yard. He laid down in the grass and soaked in the sun, one of his favorite things to do during healthier times. We sat with him as he soaked in the sun. He’d earned that.

Maddux went peacefully and transitioned to a place where he no longer hurts, and he can run and frolic and be his true self. I know he is gone, but I feel like he is still with us. I will miss him every day, but I am so thankful to have had him as a part of our family.

I will miss my walks with him. My kids will miss playing on the beach with him. My wife will miss how he would weasel his way onto the couch whenever she was sitting there so he could snuggle with her. We will simply miss his presence. And countless other things. But that is the deal when we sign up. And it was the best deal I’ve ever made.

Rest well, Big Fella.

Mike Gibbons was born and raised in Aiken, S.C. A graduate of the University of Alabama, you can e-mail him at scmgibbons@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter @StandardMike.