My Microwave Died Last Night

...and I just watched it go, like some long-lost, time-misplaced, silent neighbor, from Kitty Genovese’s* old neighborhood.

It was very sad! Funny thing was, I denied myself the awareness of what had really been going on ‘til it was all over. Afterward, I felt so bad that I’d have turned myself in as an accomplice to a crime, but we both know you and I, they’d have thought I was crazy.  Besides, how would the charge sheet have read, “Failure to provide assistance or standing by idly as a microwave slowly died”? All this probably sounds weird, maybe even a little screwy to you but let me tell you what happened.

Last evening, I was unable to induce a meaningful or logical response from the usually eager-to-please ‘touch control’ panel. As I sadly recall now, always and without fail, when  previously touched, my microwave had not only indicated my instruction on its panel, but followed through if  I so commanded it; even gently pointing out errors that I may have made. And for my part, I simply accepted that rare expression of loyalty, had even come to expect it without thought, taking it for granted as if it were my due. What arrogance!  Unfortunately, it sometimes takes an experience such as this to awaken us to how good we have it, without actually knowing it.

Sorry to ramble on like this but I’d like to feel or at least hope that you might understand. Do you have a microwave?  Never mind, it’s not important. May I take a moment to pull myself together? Thank you.

As I was saying, not only was the panel no longer responding, the clock also was not
functioning. (Oh, if I only had realized then!) Instead, the pointer caret was beeping      softly from time to time. With shame, I recall that my immediate reaction was,  ‘what to do with the precooked barbecued ribs and teriyaki rice which I had purchased earlier’. Selfish, selfish, selfish!!! I had chosen to hear an irregular bleeping when in truth, the computer brain of my heretofore trustworthy and reliable friend was crying out in desperation, “hlp,hlp, pls hlp”. (Oh, the horror and curse of reflected memory.) The microwave, its power and potential diminished by its critical problems and probably in some sort of electronic panic, had not been capable of expressing itself properly.

So why am I going on like this, almost out of control emotionally, like some kind of fool? Well, not only am I grumpy (having been forced to eat a cold dinner), worse yet, in the crisis I’d shown concern only for myself, for my own welfare. I had even momentarily considered that perhaps the microwave’s condition might be hazardous to my health emitting unseen, dangerous rays, waves or whatever. To be candid, I put the matter out of my mind, watched T.V. (mental sloth that I am), and went to bed.

You can well imagine my shock and subsequent dismay when I entered the kitchen this morning. My reaction magnified because I had momentarily (and rather callously) forgotten what had transpired and was startled to see that the entire panel board was BLACK; no light, no caret marker, no soft bleeping...only an eerie darkness and silence. In a flash I recalled how it had always provided a quiet, thorough efficiency, a work ethic that had set the standard for us all. Gone now, to be no more.

Oh, the service representative (computer surgeon?) was here and he replaced the workings behind my panel with a new chip, somewhere deep inside but it’s not the same. There’s a stranger in my kitchen.                                                      

By sharing this painful experience, I’m trying to reach out, as the poets and psychiatrists advice us, and in that way come to understand and accept the loss. Let me try to convey my feelings by asking you a question. If one’s mom had brain cancer (G-d forbid!), and the state of our exalted, scientific knowledge allowed for a potentially successful brain transplant, would the recovered mother, newly brained so to speak, still really be one’s mom?

     The conclusion so it seems to me is that none of us truly knows, (until its too late) what        deep yet unacknowledged love some of us feel toward inanimate objects. Do you think
     a bumper sticker which read, “Love Your Toaster, It’s Later Than You Think”, or              another that said, “I’d Rather Be Microwaving” would be understood?